The Buttons
by SeteEntediados
Summary: With the help of a secret group, Rachel tries to survive in a dystopian society in which a fascist government took over.
1. White button

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...

Rachel Berry took books inside her school locker for the second time on the day. This time the class would be the fascinating national literature, in which the textbook eternalized the canonical names revered by the most intellectual spheres of society that nobody read. The ordinary people, including Rachel, preferred even the conventional novels about sweet romances sold at corner stores. In these corny stories, the young lady is a sufferer victim of injustices, the good guy is a gentleman in white armor, and there is the fundamental sex scene with a special description of coitus. It's bad literature, but at least it's entertained and allowed. The goverment never prohibited normative heterosexual white sex. Not that Rachel made use of it.

She was a fine student who, at the age of seventeen, was about to face selection tests in which she put before the students the possibility of being approved in a public university where they would prepare for the best jobs that would give them status quo and, perhaps, some subsidies from governmental organizations. Whoever wasn't chosen to be an elite professional could choose between serving the security and control organs (a bureaucrat) or turning to the regular labor market in jobs considered inferior within the construction of that society. There were, of course, those who try the crime life in the shadows. Of course, it wasn't just the criminals who walked in the shadows in that society, but the lords of the law made no distinction.

As a student, Rachel was above average and close to the honor board of the school that contemplated the best in each year. She had a chance to go to college, but she didn't want to be so excited about the future. Her goal wasn't the elite, but rather leave the city or, preferably, the country. It was one of the reasons to speak with buttons.

Among academically accepted books, her favorites were the forbidden, those who presented ideas considered subversive. Be forbidden in that society was a common occurrence. The most liberal ideas were considered dangerous in an ideologically controlled environment. In the literary subjects were as much the historical, classic authors, as also the said revolutionary ones that helped to justify and to perpetuate the dominant thought. It was the way the routine happened, and Rachel tried to deal as best as she could within an environment of ideological brainwashing. That was how the country worked since she was just a child. This was how young people grew to support and legitimize every kind of message said by the regime. This is how they became obedient sheep. Rachel wasn't a sheep. She only pretended to be one for her own safety.

Still in the locker, she noticed that there was a familiar object in front of the books. One black button with that peculiar scraping on the edge.

"If it's not the little orphan?" Quinn Fabray approached and Rachel rolled her eyes before staring at the girl with dark gold hair and hazel eyes. The girl was simply beautiful. So much beauty for such a bad genius. The world wasn't fair.

"Bored at this time of the day?" Rachel stared at her. As always, Quinn was accompanied by Santana Lopez, Quinn's number one bodyguard.

"Control your mouth." Santana Lopez practically snarled, but Rachel wasn't impressed by her colleague's ranting. Rachel would shudder in case a great athlete like Santana physically assaulted her, but verbal assaults didn't make a difference.

"I wouldn't be brave now if I were you." Quinn approached aggressively. "My mom is hosting a party this weekend, something more informal. She need people to serve the hosts and I wonder if you and your loser friends would like some change?"

It wasn't the first time Quinn had made such an offer. The Fabrays were part of the elite and Russell Fabray, the father, was part of the local parliament. Informal parties, as Quinn claimed, were some receptions that Judy Fabray organized along with the excellent wives of other parliamentarians or ladies in society. And if they were informal, it meant that the only purpose was to gossip and flaunt. Everything was political. Rachel had already worked on two of them serving canapés and other food. The payment wasn't bad. She took half of it for her savings. Since she was little, she kept money to leave the country as soon as she turn 18. She was willing to put money in the hands of a coyote to try to cross the border to the East. It was the alternative she considered if the buttons don't help her.

"I'm going to talk to my loser friends. Shall I call Gloria to close de deal?" Rachel rarely spoke to Gloria, but she knew the housekeeper was also Russell's lover. Rachel caught them once in the manor gardens. She didn't tell anyone about it but Gloria. Not that the affair made any difference to Russell, but at least Gloria gives Rachel small jobs like that.

"Do it." Quinn ordered.

Quinn turned her back and Santana pushed Rachel lightly against the lockers before following the leader. Unnecessary demonstration of power. Rachel shook her head in disapproval. Her loser friends were Sam, Matt, and Puck. Sometimes Tina and Mike would run into some jobs depending on whether their parents could afford the month's allowance. No allowance indicated that they would be willing to make some money.

Rachel looked at the black button once more. She sighed and put it into her coin purse with others colored buttons. Except for the scraped black button, Rachel's were a little larger and had the golden edges. She picked up a white button and shoved it into a locker, then, she call the housekeeper to close de deal. It was a simple party. They were hiring only three people to serve and one kitchen assistant. Matt was the perfect kitchen assistant. He was going to study gastronomy and had accumulated some experience in such events. Even studying at another school, Matt was one of Rachel's closest friends. After all, he also spoke with buttons. She texted her friends and soon got the staff: her, Puck and Sam.

Puck at Fabray's? It meant that her 'brother' would stay late to try his luck with Quinn. The cheerios' captain posed as a virgin at school, but the truth is that she was very sexually active: she had had sex with Puck at least once and there was a certain buzz about Sam as well. Officially, Quinn's boyfriend was Finn, who was still in the second base. Rachel felt sorry for Finn and revolted at the things that were being done on his back, including by his close friends, but the rich boy didn't speak with buttons and hadn't shown himself to be reliable enough or had a good reason to start talking to them.

Among friends and adversaries, ironically, everone was in the glee club of the school. Participating in school activities was well-seen in the community. Jocks, in particular, had "forgiven" bad grades if they were part of one club. That's why people like Finn and Puck were in the choir. Rachel was there because her talent: the same could be said of Kurt and Mercedes. Finn chose the choir because singing made him feel good and because he was a jock, mr. William Shuester made him the co-captain of the group along with Rachel. He was the one who motivated Puck, Sam and Mike to join the group. Quinn came in to please her boyfriend and dragged with her Santana and Brittany.

...

On the way home, Rachel was busy riding her bike along the way. She wouldn't want to have trouble with the police, especially in a week when a curfew was instituted in her neighborhood because of a violently repressed protest. When the security force enforced the curfew in some part of the city, the agents used to act with more violence and would arrest anuone without a fair reason.

It was a crazy world. Repressed, violent, neutered. Which anesthetized most of the population out of fear. After the great global economic crisis, civil wars broke out and they evolved beyond their own borders. Empires fell, countries were divided and a new world order was established. Since then, there has been a delicate balance in relations between nations. The country was surrounded by states with allied governments except the eastern border, where freedom was still a reality. Commercial flights between these rival political blocs did not exist and that piece of frontier was the most watched. Nothing different from what happened in the past. In this respect, humanity didn't change.

The country's government declared that the economic recovery was still going on and that even though it was poor, the social work was perfect. People didn't see miserable people wandering the streets - even because the beggars were taken from the streets like dogs and taken to a support center where they were supposed to be rehabilitated for society, but they were actually enslaved. Mobility between social classes was small, but people weren't bothered: freedom and justice weren't as important as bread on the table.

Quinn called Rachel an orphan. It wasn't true. Her parents actually died condemned and executed for incitement to subversive movements, conspiracy against the government and for committing acts of public indecency (they were gay and kissed during a march). Hiram, the most politicized one, participated in an unauthorized march. He was a militant of a radical group and in fact dragged his fellow Leroy, the more restrained one, to challenge the establishment. When Rachel was 12 years old, her two dads were executed after serving their five-year prison sentence to terminate any lawsuit at the time of death. But her mother crossed the border when Rachel was still a baby. Rachel only knew her mom's name: Shelby Corcoran.

Without fathers and mother, Rachel got in the foster home program instituted by the government. She was welcomed by the Puckermans, a poor family supported by Anna, Puck's mother, and the little Eleonor. The Puckermen accepted Rachel thanks to a monthly allowance for the families that welcomed orphans and minors. The author of the foster social program was Congressman Pierce, who was talking with buttons. Rachel was one of the first orphaned beneficiaries. Since then, even though it wasn't the most welcoming place, the Puckerman house was a home to Rachel and Puck was almost like a brother (he kissed her once).

Riding her bike by the street of the district of workers, she stopped and got into the small yellow house without a garden and with the broken fence. The gate was still warped and Puck never got it right. He was just a lazy teenager and spent much of his time among friends, girls, fixing his car.

"Good afternoon, Anna." Rachel talked to her benefactor.

"Hi." Anna replied in her usual disinterested tone.

Anna was a daycare assistant. She was always stressed by the exhausting work and the little money. That's why Rachel learned not to talk much at home. The formula to live without friction with Anna was do the housework first, then her homework. Anna use to fix the dinner and walsh dirty dishes, but Rachel was the one who cleans the most of the house.

"I set up a job for this weekend. I'm going to serve at Fabray's party again." Rachel informed.

"Are they going to serve lemon tart again?" Anna improved her tone. Whenever she could, Rachel brought home some of the leftover food and the lemon tart had become a legend.

"Let's hope. Puck's going to work, too."

"I know very well why." Anna nearly growled. She knew of her son's involvement with Quinn Fabray. Far from an opportunity, it smelled of trouble.

"The money worth it."

"Not my son's life. I know very well that Mr. Fabray would be able to kill Puck if he finds out that his daughter opens her legs for whenever she can. "

"Puck is smart," Rachel said automatically.

"Puck is a fool who thinks only with his dick. We can have our differences, Rachel, but I thank you deeply that you have never hit on him."

"He's like a brother to me."

"Except he is not. Besides, you never know..."

Rachel went down to the basement, where her room was. She didn't complain about that. The place was neat and tidy, but it had the advantage of being the most private place of that house. Puck had pleaded more than once to exchange rooms, so that it would be easier to bring girls in without worry so much about the noises. No way! In the basement, she had her own bathroom, a bed, a little wardrobe, and a small television. She also had some freedom to invite friends for an afternoon of movie and popcorn. Even her beard, Kurt Hummel, was allowed to come in. The boy in question was gay, but he couldn't be himself at school or would be in trouble. Rachel agreed to be his beard just to play scene game. The fake couple had lunch together in the cafeteria, sometimes they kissed in the corridors, they walked hand in hand or hugged each other. Kurt and Rachel spoke with the buttons.

It was because of a button that she had to got out. It was almost time for the curfew in the neighborhood. After midnight, only agents and other authorities could circulate in that area of the city, everybody else would be arrested and forced to justify itself. Rachel didn't belong to this privileged group so she had to hurry up. She said goodbye to Puck and Anna with the excuse that she would sleep in her boyfriend's house. No one cared with her virginity. She took her bike before the curfew and ride it near the center of town. She went into an alley and unlocked an iron door at the back of a pizzeria. The place looked like a dusty warehouse with cardboard boxes piled in one corner and a huge, odd refrigerator on the opposite side.

"I didn't expect to see you here today, Rach." She was frightened when a middle-aged man stepped out of the shadows beside the boxes with a cigarette in one hand and a cell phone in another.

"God, Mr. Ramon!" Rachel spoke with her hand on her chest and let her bike fall. She needed a minute to caught her breath. "I thought I was alone."

"Sorry for scaring you. "

Socrates Ramon was the owner of one of the best pizzerias in town: exactly the one of that building. It was a busy place until midnight, when the establishment closed its doors, as well as every store and restaurant of that bohemian street.

"Do you have any special reason to be here today?" The tall man asked.

"Black Button."

"Another one?" He grunted. "You young people are very complicated. If you want, you can get a mini pizza to easy your mood. It's on the house. "

"Thank you, I'm not hungry."

As Ramon left the warehouse, Rachel took the opposite direction. She leaned her bicycle in the cardboard boxes and stood in front of the refrigerator. She opened the door and stepped inside the large refrigerator without shelves. She hated that part, the place was really cold. She pressed a metal button and inserted it into a small panel.

"Password." It was the message that flashed in green letters on a small dark screen. Rachel punched in six numbers and pressed her finger on the biometric reader. The onscreen message changed. "Welcome Berry, Rachel."

The refrigerator, or rather, the elevator began to descend. Rachel hated that cold and slow elevator. She had counted countless times: 45 seconds from the ground floor to the destination in the basement. As the door opened, the panel "spat" the metal button, which Rachel took from the rack and stowed it before exiting the elevator. Then she looked at the familiar hall and smiled. She loved that place.

It was a large underground lounge with sofás. There were some rooms and one of them was a library with banned books, banned artists' records, a soft rug, a large television. There were bathroom and bedrooms in that basement, and a door that was always locked. Rachel didn't have access to it, but she knew it was a kind of command and control center: a room full of screens and computers. Rachel didn't care about technical details. She wasn't a computer expert or anything, except for singing and her photographic memory that was very useful to her, she wasn't a skilled person.

The center was empty at that moment. That meant she could pick up her favorite vinyl and put it to the maximum volume. She knew the acoustic insulation was efficient. She put the record, an old pop band, and began to dance. This was sacred: an act of deliverance. Just dance, jump, shake her head.

"What the hell!" A voice tried to speak louder than the record and soon the volume of the sound was diminished. Rachel looked at the second visitor: Santana.

"I wasn't sure you'd come."

"I'm here just to reiterate my answer. No!"

"You already said that with your black button." Rachel took the small object from her purse and handed it back. She could have put the botton into Santana's locker at school, but she liked to do it herself. "I want to know the reason."

"You're not ready yet." Santana looked bored. She threw herself on the couch and reached for the remote control that turned on the television.

"I'm ready." Rachel insisted.

"You're not. And I'm responsible for you. "

"You're not responsible for me. You are responsible for the circle."

"And you're part of my circle, so..." Santana was very upset about the story that had been dragging on for weeks. "You're not ready. You're too sloppy."

"I'm not."

"Rachel, this is a physical job and you hate everything that makes you sweat, but your damn dance."

"You think I have physical ability enough when you need my photographic memory. This is not different."

"It is different because I never demanded more then you can handle. This step forward is really hard." Santana sighed. "And you should have brought a snack since you're going to make me sleep here today. Something other than Ramon's pizza."

"What about the other subject?"

"No way. This is not just a secret clubhouse, Rachel. This is a serius fucking bussiness."

"I know that."

"Then you do know you're being very immature right now. Three of our articulators were killed last week. They were high trained people and shit happened. Imagine what the agents would do with someone like you? You would dribble your mother in the first eletroshock."

"Even so, you trust me."

"That's another story."

"Then train me..."

"Maybe. On the right time."

"Then tell me how to start... I would do anything."

"I don't know, Rach... you need to gain physical strength, endurance... maybe you should go into some school team. One that gives you strength and some muscles."

"I'm not good with any sports that use a ball."

"But you can run. Athletics, maybe?"

"I think I can do it. If I start trainning so I can... "

"Absolutely not."

"Be a little rational."

"My answer is final."

Rachel scrambled to the other side of the couch to watch TV with her secret leader. It was easier to convince a wall than Santana. The person in question was still watching the TV despide the fake news. Rachel thought that perhaps she could persuade Brittany to persuade Santana. Brittany spoke with buttons. But like most of the members, she was just a flat button and was only aware of a small part of the whole. Brittany wasn't like Rachel, Matt and Santana. Even so, Matt knew less than Rachel. Brittany thought the buttons were just a secret group of friends that hates the goverment, organize meetings and protect gays. But Santana loved her so much, Britt was her secret girlfriend and it had to be enough.

Rachel, on the other hand, knew what the buttons were, what they could do and that's why she felt the need to participate more. The more she could work for the buttons, the more they cpuld give her support to do a lot of things, including get her out of the country.


	2. Pink button

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...

Mrs. Fabray laughed with a Dry Martini in her hands. She was talking to a wife of a parliamentarian and a lady of society recognized for administering some social programs for the goverment. One of them was for rehabilitating young offenders. These teens were meant to do all kinds of service that society avoided, such as work in crops. Usually such young offenders were poor or involved in movements called "radicals". The current social structure didn't look favorably on class mobility. Faltering wasn't difficult, but social advancement was a complicated task in a society where good education was for a few and the easiest way to get rich was to become a politician or a football player.

Rachel rarely saw a different face at those parties where she worked. Maybe Pierce's, but they were another story: The Pierces spoke with buttons. The couple James and Sara Pierce always gave the best change every time they called Brittany friends to work on their parties. The couple once paid Rachel to sing when the person contracted had a setback and couldn't perform with the band. It was a glorious night for Rachel: she felt like a real artist. She always knew she was born to shine.

The same people who applauded her enthusiastically that night at Pierce's, didn't even look at her face at Fabray's. Rachel was walking in the mansion's garden serving snacks to the guests. Their laughter irritated her. Then she would close her eyes and act to endure the small humiliations, the looks of contempt. Rachel was a tiny young woman among so many corpulent tall ladies. She had a scar above her right eyebrow that had been the result of an accident when she was still a child, and people was given little nicknames because of that. "Where is the scarface girl with those canapés?" She heard such calls.

"Greenberg ordered more pumpkin pie." Rachel addressed Matt as soon as she reached the kitchen. "And we should spit on it."

"That bitch called you scarface again?" Matt laughed.

"It was apron dwarf this time. Oh, I almost forgot: Brittany asked about her favorite."

Sam walked into the kitchen with the tray full of empty glasses. He didn't look very happy about the night job. Most of Rachel's friends were tough. Certainly everyone who worked on serving at informal parties didn't have much money left over. Sam was the one of that informal group of friends with a more unstable situation, since his father was unemploye while his mother was the only one in the house with a fixed receptionist job. The money wasn't enough for all expenses. Sam was a handsome young man with long blond hair, but who lived little the pleasures of his age.

Matt was sometimes called Mocha. He came from a family with better financial situation, and he worked to supply his own expenses. His father was a barista and owner of a coffee shop. The nickname was a direct reference to the family's commercial establishment: Café Mocha. Matt hated coffee, but he enjoyed working as a kitchen assistant. He considered it important experiense to be a chef someday.

"Luc is busy." Sam talked about the barman hired to make special drinks. "The old ladies are thirsty over the poor man today."

"I just want to see who's going to take him home today." Matt finished filling Rachel's tray. "Last time was the old Gimenez."

"You guys are disgusting." Rachel rolled her eyes.

Prostitution was a crime that nobody cared as long it was practiced under some undeclared rules. Discretion was the main one. Luc made nice drinks and he also "served" women and some high-society men. Rachel wasn't friend of his, but the they often met each other at those parties and respected each other. There were rumors that Puck sometimes made some money by pleasuring ladies of high society, but he never confirmed them. Sam also received proposals. He confided to Rachel that he had done it once but he felt so disgusted with himself that he swore never do it again. Rachel herself had already received signals that she could make money with it, but she ignored them all.

The housekeeper went into the kitchen. Rachel, startled, picked up the tray and went for another round carrying a tray of snacks ordered by some guests with a frozen smile on her face, watching everything in the meantime. She offered Mrs. Greenberg the desired piece of pumpkin pie. She smiled politely despite the lady's rude comment and continued to work. It was one of the last rounds she would do before the main dinner was served. She looked curiously at Quinn and Brittany, who were sitting with two other girls. Rachel walked over to the table and faced a serious Quinn and a Brittany who barely disguised boredom.

"I brought your favorite, Britt." she set down a plate of stuffed olives, mini sandwiches with ricotta and garlic pate.

"My God, how much freedom this thing has to you. I hope it's not a sweetheart, Britt. You would be condemned to the electric chair for bad taste." One of the girls laughed. "What would you recommend for me?" The girl stared at Rachel petulantly.

"The pumpkin pie is delicius." And she serverd the girl with a piece. Rachel smiled when the girl tryed the baptized food. "Won't you want anything, Miss Fabray?" Rachel was well instructed to address Quinn that way at social events.

"Just get the hell out of here, dwarf."

Rachel nodded and obeyed. Dinner was served and everything remained in the routine. Except for Quinn Fabray. Rachel knew her well enough to feel that something was off. Quinn always played the game and was rude to everybody. Sometimes she tried to entertain Brittany, who can't hide her boredom. But melancholy and sadness never stains Quinn's face. Rachel watched Quinn when she started staring at the sky in the dead of night after the party. Rachel would spend the night in dependence on the employees since the curfew her neighborhood made it impossible to return home at that time.

It was strange that Puck wasn't around Quinn or any other handsome boy other than Finn Hudson. It was as if Rachel witnessed a rare moment of fragility. She approached cautiously, fixing the coat on her body. She knew she shouldn't do that, but Rachel was curious. She was always curious about Quinn. Despite being a petty girl who disdained her in school, it was as if Rachel could see some truth through those beautiful hazel eyes.

"Do you know the constellations?" Rachel was surprised that Quinn had noticed her approach.

"The only ones I can identify are Orion and Cassiopeia." Rachel pointed to the stars. "I recognize Orion because of those three bright stars there. It is said that one of the stars of this constellation is about to explode, but the brightness will only be seen in 500,000 years when the light reaches us. "

"Is this serious?"

"That's what they say. Cassiopeia is that w."

"You're not as lazy as I thought."

"Do you know constellations?"

"My older sister belonged to the amateur astronomy club. She taught me some things." Then she turned to Rachel. "You must have a very bad insomnia to be standing next to someone you hate in a cold night."

"I do not hate you, Quinn. I understand that we belong to different worlds, and I don't think that's a reason enough to hate you, no matter how much you feel the need to mistreat me in public." Rachel continued to look up at the sky with Quinn. "Besides, tomorrow is Sunday. I can sleep all day in the comfort of my bed. The chair here was never the best for a nap."

"Truth. My mother never made a point of giving confort to temporary staff."

"I presume your bed is much better than a chair, so why are you here observing the stars?"

"Too many things in my head. Things that do not concern you."

"They say that talking with a stranger or an almost enemy is better than confessing things to a friend. If you want to try..."

"Don't count on it. In fact, the less you know about my life, the better. I'm not an open book, and I'm not intend to be. So cut off the crap."

"People don't have to be an open books to unburden."

"Lose your hopes, dwarf. You aren't my friend and I would give absolutely nothing that you could use as a weapon against me."

"Too bad you think that way. It must be a very lonely position, Quinn."

"It's none of your business."

Quinn was constantly stirring some small object in her hands. Rachel's eyes widened and her heart stopped when she finally noticed a small blue button. The color of the invitation.

"Where did you get that button?"

"That?" Quinn pointed as if it was no big deal. "It fell out of my blouse."

Rachel breathed in relief. Quinn being asked to join the buttons? Only if everyone had lost their minds.

"If you get me needle and thread, I can sew it back."

"That's very kind of you, but I'm perfectly capable of fixing a button and doing a much better job." Now it was the pride back that Rachel even felt comfortable with. It was familiar. "You should get out of this cold, Berry, or it will ruin your beautiful voice."

"Since when do you care about my health?"

"I'm not a complete monster."

Quinn left the garden and Rachel felt sadness. Enduring Quinn's insults at dawn was better than feeling alone in that mansion that gave her shivers. Rachel wasn't a person who believed in mysticism, but she could feel that the energy around that place wasn't the best. She went back to the employee's quarters, where she found her friends and her quasi-brother leaning against the corners, waiting for daybreak, when they could return to their homes without the concern of being approached by security officers.

Rachel thought it would be great if everyone had the same right to come and go. That's one of the reasons she was proud to be a button: the group understand and deffend human and civil rights.

"Can't sleep?" Sam said quietly, inviting his friend to sit beside him.

"It's difficult here." She whispered as she sat down beside Sam and allowed herself to be wrapped around his arms.

"Fact."

"This is almost inhumane."

"Think about the money."

"Aren't you angry with these things? Work for those nozzles and be treated that way? Not even the people who work here help us."

"I'm dying in anger, but there's not much I can do. So I lean back in that corner, count the money again. It's not much, but it relaxes me."

Rachel snuggled a little more against her friend's body. She closed her eyes and tried to forget.

...

There were two things Rachel loved at Lopez's house: Juan's good mood and the lunch fixed by Maribel. Juan was a doctor and his wife was a seamstress who sold colorful cushions at the weekly crafts fair. There were two rooms unoccupied in that house, and Rachel would love to occupy one of them but she couldn't. Two of the older Lopez kids had left the house, leaving the youngest behind: Santana.

While Rachel tasted a delicious tempura, she heard funny cases from the hospital narrated with great vivacity by Juan. The laughter was loud. Until they heard the noise of the motorcycle in front of the house.

Santana walked into the kitchen carrying her black helmet and ran into a relatively ordinary domestic scene: her parents and Rachel organizing the place after the meal like any family. The young woman was serious, put the helmet on the table and said her mother she was starving.

"How was your day?" Juan asked earnestly.

"It was okay." Santana was more interested in the food than talking to her Family.

Juan never believed her daughter's excuse for her alternate absences on the weekends, but Santana made sure it was a nice biweekly job, and she always came back with some money. Not that the Lopezes needed her daughter's help to pay the bills. At this point, they had a more favorable economic situation compared to so many other families living in that same neighborhood. Juan always encouraged his three kids to work: school and work are his moto. But delivering service in neighboring cities wasn't exactly what he thought for any of them. As long as Santana didn't get into trouble and didn't neglect her studies, he would be cool with that.

"So you served at the Fabray party yesterday?" Santana asked Rachel without even looking at her. Rachel could tell when Santana talked to her as a leader, even in front of other people, and that was the case in that moment.

"Nothing but normal happened." Rachel turned to Juan and Maribel. "They are the same granfines counting the same advantages and paying the same little money."

"That's why they're rich!" Maribel quipped.

Santana ate quickly and asked if Rachel didn't want to listen some music in her bedroom. It was the code that they should talk about the buttons. Rachel followed the leader to the bedroom on the second floor. She closed the door as Santana put out a vinyl record to play. Truth be told: Santana had an incredible music collection and that was the most recurring subject between them, but the girl with black hair and bronzed skin never let Rachel explore that Wonderful library of sounds.

"Report." Santana said as she pulled off her boots. Her voice was a little muffled by the music.

"I didn't see Sam's interaction with anyone on the other side. He reaffirmed some ideas that we defend, not to mention that he is an honest man. I've known him for a long time. Do you really think he's a good candidate to join our circle?"

"We need more people, but we can't afford to make mistakes." Rachel nodded and silenced for a moment to enjoy the sweet melody from the phonograph.

"Quinn was different yesterday..." Rachel commented without thinking the exact importance of it.

"Different how?" Santana frowned and wished the information was really good. Quinn and she were relatively close, despite the social chasm between them. There was interest on Santana's part in getting closer to get information for the buttons, but it wasn't easy when it came from someone so closed.

"I don't know. She was just different." Rachel took the cover of the vinyl and silently read some information about the production. "She was staring at the stars after the party and talked about her sister... Quinn never exchanged more than a half-dozen words with me, and when she speaks, it's either to downgrade me or to informe about a job at her house. But yesterday she was, I don't know, fragile."

"Yeah... I know." Santana said thoughtfully and lay down on her bed. "I am dead!"

"How was your day?"

"Hardworking, as usual."

Santana then smiled at Rachel and got up. She took out a bag of buttons of her backpack. She looked inside it, shifted a little, and took out a button. Rachel's heart pounded as Santana handed her a pink one. A pink button was usually "delivered" electronically, but as one of the addressees was there, the traditional way seemed pertinent. Santana was right as she checked the subordinate's eyes.

"I got a mail?" Rachel was genuinely surprised.

"Don't go tomorrow." Santana tried to rationalize before a surprised Rachel. "You know the bohemian street is dangerous on Mondays."

Rachel barely heard the advice. All her attention was focused on that pink button.


	3. Jump

"DiannaPerfectAgron" this 'dystopian' reality is a collection of situations that already happen in several places. People are deprived of rights, art is being censored, supremacist groups are walking the streets with Nazi flags, LGBT people are killed on the streets in broad daylight, and dictators emerge in democratic states.

...

Rachel slipped out of the basement when it was past ten. The curfew in that area had been suspended, but it didn't mean that the streets were less dangerous. Anna came to confront her, but Rachel smiled and said she would sleep in Kurt's house. "As long as you don't get pregnant", the tutor replied with some disdain. Rachel would not stand a chance of annoying Anna, at least not depending on Kurt. She picked up her bike went out towards the bohemian street. At that time, the streets of the city began to be empty, especially at the beginning of the week, when there wasn't much to do in a city that wasn't a metropolis and had limited leisure options.

She rode her bike through the streets and watched the families retreat. The last cars coming to the garage. Some colorful patrol lights circling around with crazy agents to approach anyone. This oppression forced peculiar habits in the underworld: alcoholics were lost inside their house, or they went to the so-called basements: places scattered between bohemian zones and poor neighborhoods where people lost themselves collectively and avoided the streets to avoid being arrested. Rachel had never been in a so-called "basement," but she knew stories and they were not pretty. A basement wasn't like a bar, it wasn't like bohemian streets: it was worse.

It took no more than 15 minutes to went between her house to the bohemian street. Arriving there, she saw the place almost completely deserted, except by the presence of two patrols. Rachel was nervous to see that one of them was exactly in the alley of the pizzeria that gave access to the door of the false warehouse. Rachel knew full well that the agents were unpredictable. She could be arrested right there for no reason, or suffer worse things. Reports of physical and sexual abuse were vast. Rachel turned away and entered the next alley, three buildings ahead. She was nervous, breathless. She cursed herself for choosing a dead end. She tried to return, but noticed an agent approaching. She ran and hid behind a barrel of trash with the bike ahead as if it were a shield. Rachel saw the beam of light from the flashlight illuminating some points in the distance. She stopped breathing and only let out the air as the beam disappeared.

With trembling hands, she reached for her cell phone. Typed S.O.S. and then the number 4.

Her photographic memory helped her remember the innumerable button codes. Everything in the buttons was in code. There were a few different ones that catered to certain circles. Rachel's was one of the most basic yet efficient. Anyway, she followed the protocol and prayed for Santana to answer her as quickly as possible. She was grateful when her cell phone vibrated the next minute.

" _Where are you?"_ The leader's voice was urgent.

"In an alley, three buildings before the pizzeria. Dead end." She didn't need to detail it so much. The codes already gave a good notion of the problem and Santana had obligation to know that place of closed eyes.

" _Rachel, there's a ladder attached to the brown building wall. Go upstairs as soon as you get the chance, talk on the phone again, I'll be with you all the time._ "

Ladder? Rachel thought Santana might be kidding. She peered carefully to see if any agents were nearby. She assumed everything was clean. She set the bike down with some difficulty - all to make no noise - used a wooden crate to climb into the garbage can. She reached for the second step of the ladder in question and used the small cracks in the bricks of the wall to climb. It took more physical strength than she imagined. It was a relief when she managed to rest her foot on the bottom step of the ladder. Slowly, like a thief, she won step by step as silently as possible. She avoided looking down. Her heart was already in her mouth and she didn't want to spit it out for good. She grated her knees on the wall as she tried to gain more steps. Rachel couldn't be as discreet as she wanted and needed, but, luckily, she managed to get to the edge of the roof. She threw one leg in and let the body roll to the safety of the floor. She lay there for a minute or two. She was breathless and sweated like crazy despite the cold night. Her hands burned from the rusting of the iron. Rachel thanked the anti-tetanus vaccination campaign. Still lying down, she picked up her cell phone.

"I did it."

" _Great ... great!_ " Santana looked relieved on the other end of the line. " _Now, carefully, you need to tell me how the agents are moving._ "

"Okay." She ran to the bent and lowered forward carefully moved closer to the ledge. "There are two agents in front of this building", she whispered. "One of them is circling around." Rachel was a step away from panic.

" _Rachel... listen carefully. I want you to go to the other side of this building_ ", the leader complied. " _You will see that the smaller building behind has a door of the roof faces the street on which it is facing_ ".

"And?"

" _I want you to jump._ "

"Are you crazy? It has a space about five meters between one building and another."

" _It's actually a little less than two meters._ "

"You can't be serious!"

" _I've done this before. It's not a big deal. You don't have to be an extraordinary athlete to achieve it. The unevenness of the buildings helps with the task. Just run and jump. Do not hesitate or look down... or think about it._ " The leader's voice was calm and yet firm, commanding.

"I will not jump!"

" _We don't have business where you are right now. But I can send quick help if you jump. The agents are circling, you told me. Sign that they mistrust of something. So you have to do whatever it takes._ "

"I won't jump!" She whispered shrieking.

" _Don't you want to stop receiving negatives? Don't you want to be part of the high-scheme to get out of this hole? Then jump!_ "

"It's because it's not with you!" Rachel was disgusted with the idea. In almost total panic.

" _Rach..._ "

"Don't Rach me. Go to hell!"

" _Ok... ok... calm down... look at the movement again._ "

Rachel went to the edge again. The agent was no longer in front of the building. He had the intuition to look at the side and saw that the man now watched the abandoned bicycle in the alley. He threw the flashlight at the roof and Rachel ducked into a reflection.

"They found my bike... San... what do I do?"

" _Rachel, you have no options. Jump!_ " The voice was pure command.

"OK..."

She ran her hand over her forehead to wipe away the sweat. She looked once more down and saw that the agent was climbing over the garbage can. She walked to the middle of the roof and without thinking about it, she ran. She put her foot on the railing of the roof and took the necessary momentum for the almost suicidal jump. But she succeeded. With a painful fall, but she succeeded. She ran to the door and leaned against it. She was crying.

"San..." She returned the phone. "I jumped..."

" _OK. Anyway, if the agent goes to the roof, he won't jump there if he doesn't see you. That's why you can't move. If they are watching with this rigor it's because they are pressed to catch someone. But that's not worth the two-and-a-half-meter jump you just made._ "

"Two and a half?! You said there were less than two... and I think I sprained my ankle in the fall."

" _See? And then you say my psychology doesn't work._ "

"I hate you! I legitimately hate you!"

" _It's all right. Now pay attention. Don't leave where you are. Help is on the way. I'll call you back, okay?_ "

Rachel hung up the phone. She tried to calm herself down a bit, but instead she cried in a nervous mood. Her hands throbbed and her ankle ached. She didn't even bother to know whether or not the agent had climbed onto the roof. She just wanted to get out of there. She closed her eyes and tried to control the crying. That's when her phone vibrated once more.

" _Rachel. Are you still there?_ "

"Yes..."

" _Do you remember the dialogue of the caterpillar?_ "

"I think... I think so ..."

" _Okay, in a few minutes someone should be there to rescue you. You'll know how to know if he's friends._ "

"Thanks."

" _You know what to do when it's all over._ "

Rachel didn't know how many minutes have passed. She just tried to focus on something other than her hands and ankles. She close her eyes and think of good things. As in the last good memories she had with her parents, before they were arrested and executed. Hiram Berry would pop her daughter whenever he could, and he loved to hear her sing. He was very loving and did everything to make up for the mother's absence in the little girl's life. Rachel remembered that one of the happiest moments was when Hiram and Leroy took her to the amusement park and paid her an ice cream on her way home. It was a sacred time that even clandestine discussions couldn't be more important. Sometimes Rachel felt angry at her father for not thinking about her and about Leroy when he became involved with the radical political group. But for the most part the time, she was grateful for the good memories they left.

If she had known that she would be having them so short time, she would have taken more advantage of it, she would have been a better daughter. A click on the door leading to the roof (and into the building in the opposite direction) made her alert. A black-haired man with a mustache appeared. Rachel's eyes widened in alarm. She was physically and psychologically tired to react.

"Who are you?" The man asked. His voice was thick.

"I ... I barely know sir, right now", she replied hesitantly.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'm afraid I can not explain."

The man smiled and offered his hand for Rachel to get up.

"Washington Gilmore... and you must be Rachel Berry."

"Yes." Rachel accepted her hand and stood up despite her body in pain.

"Come on, we don't have much time."

They descended the stairs of the building and soon arrived at the gatehouse opposite the bohemian space. At least Rachel could attest that she didn't break anything, or would be unable to make such an effort on her own. They entered the building at the back of the pizzeria. It was an accounting office that worked there. Without further explanation, Gilmore led Rachel to the basement that had access through the office. There were shelves and more shelves and processes. In one corner, between the shelves, there was a tapestry decorating the place. Gilmore opened the tapestry as if it were a door, and the elevator door was revealed much more comfortable than the one in which Rachel was accustomed. Gilmore pushed the metal button on the dashboard and smiled at the girl. The elevator went down.

"Alternative door? I don't believe."

"It would be stupid to make a single entrance and exit from such an important place." He smiled.

"Santana... is that why she made me jump out of the building? So that we could get in the back? Literally from the back?"

"Theoretically, you come in from the back door. This is the main door."

"Are you from the upper circle?"

"Let's say I'm part of certain more strategic cells. You were lucky that I was at work until later and that Santana was your leader. Otherwise, you would have to leave from above on your own or with the help of the members of your circle."

"They saw my bike in the alley. What should I do?"

"Forget it. Buy another one. By the way, I'll have a word with your leader about headquarters visits today. Everyone knows Monday is a bad day."

"Actually..." Rachel looked down at her feet. "She warned me, but I disobeyed."

"In this case, I'm sure she'll know how to apply appropriate disciplinary punishment."

The elevator opened and they stepped out into a room Rachel was unaware of: it was a sophisticatedly decorated space: that basement was much larger than she'd imagined. They entered a door and entered the control room. Gilmore greeted the young man who worked there on duty, and then he left Rachel in her familiar place.

"You're home... take care of yourself, girl!" Gilmore greeted her again and walked back the same way.

"Thanks."

Rachel threw herself at the familiar sofa and closed her eyes, relieved to be safe. Then she remembered the reason for having undergone all that adventure: the mail. She went to the counter and looked for the letter. She found her name in a plain white envelope.

She opened the letter. It was a normal, unencrypted mail, as she had once seen Santana use the computer to decipher the message. Just the good old white paper, pen and a readable letter. Accompanied by the letter were two photos that made Rachel's eyes fill with water. One photo was a pretty woman with brown hair and green eyes who looked like she had arrived very well at her 40's. The other photo was the younger version of the same woman with a child on her lap. The child was Rachel herself.

 _Dear Rachel,_

 _I imagine it must be very difficult for you to live alone in this place. You can doubt all you want, but I think and pray for you every day and hope you are well._

 _I've been wanting to get in touch with you in any way for some years. Especially when I learned late of the death of your two dads. It took nearly two years for a mutual friend to meet me and tell me the news, especially from Hiram, Leroy, and his family. I know it's late, but I'm here to pay my respects and all my feelings._

 _I do not know if your parents told this story, but we met very young, still in college, just around the time the coup was decreed and the borders were closed. Hiram was the directory leader and we were close. At that time, he was already dating Leroy and had all this LGBT rights folder. One day I came crying and Hiram supported me. I was pregnant and by God, don't even want to know about your biological father because he's not a worthy guy. Your biological father left me and my own family said that i have to deal it by myself. Hiram was the one who gave me the support I needed and I moved in with them._

 _When you were born, Hiram gave you his name and assumed you as his because his family had better resources. Leroy gave all his support. But things were still confused, and shortly afterwards a friend of mine talked about the possibility of running away before things got worse. I was determined to take the chance, but Hiram said it would be too risky to cross the border with a three months old baby. There was an opportunity to leave and we discussed a lot that day, and we agreed that I would try to cross the border, but without you. And if it all worked out, they'd do the same with you. Hiram and Leroy loved you so much that they were afraid to risk it. I never forgave them for not have tried to cross the border with you, as it was combined, but today I know that their decision was right._

 _It was a dark period in my life. I suffered with longing and all I had to console myself were two pictures. One of them was just the one I send a copy to you. This photo stays with me wherever I go._

 _I survived Rachel. I'm not rich, I have no fame, but I have a good life, a job, a husband, and a daughter named Beth who is four year old._

 _Even with a new family in a land that sheltered me, you continue in my thoughts. But I didn't know how to get in touch with you all this time. As you know so well, they cut all the civil communication._

 _Months ago I was approached by a strange man named Peter. He didn't give me details, but he said that he knew you and that he had a way of contacting you without much risks. Whatever it is, Rachel, I pray you didn't get in trouble or join an extremist group like Hiram. If so, it's not worth it._

 _Anyway, Peter gave me enough evidence to make me believe that he was telling the truth, and finally he asked me to write a letter. I deposit here all my hopes that this man is really serious and that my words reach into your hands._

 _And what else do I want to know is if are you okay? Are you happy? Do you have good people around you?_

 _Peter said that you could answer me. He assured me. So, I beg you, please let me hear from you. I need to know._

 _With all his mother's love,_

 _Shelby Corcoran_

Rachel looked at the photo and ran her fingers along the contour of her face. That was her mother. Finally, in almost 17 years, she knew the figure she had only imagined. She had no idea why the buttons intermediated this contact. Maybe it was Santana asserting her position. Maybe this was the late birthday present that the leader said would deliver her one day. Anyway, there was a letter from her mother.

She wiped the tears in her eyes and took a deep breath. She tried to control all the feelings that pulsed in her chest right now. She sat down at the computer and began to write the answer.

 _Dear Shelby._

 _Sorry if I still can't call you Mom in my mind. I'm still under the effect of the emotion over the letter. Yes, I got your message and the two pictures. I can't say that I know Peter, but I can imagine the reason he came to you. I really belong to a group that seeks to help in the chaos in which we live. This same group has unorthodox ways of dealing with the current situation. But they are good ways and not those unthinking and desperate ones in which papa unfortunately was involved._

 _Please don't get me wrong, but I do not feel comfortable discussing my feelings about my father with you. You are my mother, but I don't know you and you don't know me._

 _Even so, I am glad to know that you are established and with another family. I confess it is not easy, but I understand that you had to move on. I'd like to meet Beth's some day. Could you please send me a photo of her when you receive my response and have a new opportunity to send me a message?_

 _What I can say about myself is that I didn't have an easy life. After my parents were convicted and murdered by the government, I was taken to a shelter for the child and adolescent: a pompous name for an orphanage. I spent almost a year in that place until being welcomed by a foster family. It is with these people that I have lived in the last five years. I have a tutor who has two other children. One who's the same age as me and an eight-year-old girl. We don't make a family, but there is a ceiling and food on the table._

 _Here, I study and I work to help my foster family. But I have these special people I consider myself to be my true family. We are united by a common ideal of resisting, but with rationality, and I have more information than I can imagine._

 _Maybe my letter has a bitter tone. Or unbeliever. I still need to evaluate what it is to hear from you. It's not easy to reconcile your concern with the feeling I have cultivated for a lifetime: that you have abandoned me._

 _Yet I feel this emotion in knowing that you are alive, that you're well, and that you moved on. This is what I intend to do in my life: to move on and find my happiness wherever I go._

 _I look forward to your return._

 _Rachel Berry._

Rachel went to the machine and crunched the letter she had just received. She selected a photo she had on her phone and printed it. She put the reply card and the photo in an envelope. She put the name of Shelby Corcoran and the city in the recipient and herself as sender. Address? Eastern country underlined three times. One important thing about how button mail work is that the group knew how to get things right. Whoever Peter was, Rachel already considered him a guardian angel who spoke with buttons. She was almost sure that letter was indeed her later birthday present, but she wouldn't question her leader so soon.

She took the pictures Shelby sent her, placed them inside the book she had in her backpack. Since she can't leave until dawn, she did the usual thing: snuggled up on the wide couch and try to sleep.


	4. Party

It was difficult for Rachel to start training with the athletic team. Her body was arching a lot after an adventurous and tense night. Her ankles burned and she needed to slow down more than she intended. Rachel certainly didn't impress the coach. Competing wasn't her goal: Gain physical strength and discipline for physical exercise was. And she also convince Santana to let her participate more in the buttons' activities. She knew that the leader worked in the service of inner circles and helped in the mail tasks, which was considered one of the most important. Rachel didn't know the details, but there was an international company that did the mail job and it was owned by a button. Thus, the correspondence came along with other import products and was dispatched throughout the country. It was simple in concept but complex in execution. At least that was what Santana said.

Rachel knew the end line. Receiving a mail from someone with whom she couldn't establish normal communication without being monitored by the government was simply unbelievable. If someone received a mail from a person marked on the list of fugitives and deserters, it could cause enormous problems for the recipient. Shelby was billed as a deserter, as were thousands of others. If someone in these conditions returned to the country through normal migration routes, they would be arrested. Rachel was hurt by Shelby, but the thrill of hearing her mother's news, knowing she had a half sister, was very important. Like hers, hundreds of families were separated when the borders with the East were closed, and the right to come and go relativized.

"Very nice, Berry! You can beat a turtle with this speed." Rachel heard Santana's voice from behind and more laughter from other girls.

"Nice acquisition. Now, our team will never gain respect." Quinn completed, and Rachel turned to face the group. Brittany was with Quinn and Santana. Two others unimportant cheerleaders were with them. "Have you anything to say, dwarf?"

"I just want to thank for this incredible audience. If I knew that my first day of training would attract fans, I would have been on the team longer. It is an honor to be harassed by daughters of parliamentarians."

"Watch your mouth." Quinn stepped forward and stood in front of the group. Rachel looked at Santana, who was attentive but, she knew that the leader would do nothing to defend her. At least not in public.

"I'm not the insecure one here, Quinn Fabray. I'm not the one who has to impose on those who are invisible at this school just to not feel so miserable." Rachel didn't bow her head. Never for Quinn, at least.

Brittany put her hand to her mouth. Quinn advanced toward Rachel, but Santana held her friend by the arm.

"Are you going to fight because of this junk? I don't think it's worth the effort." Santana said and that hurt Rachel's feelings.

Rachel knew that Santana was only playing her role, as she had determined herself. Even so, it hurt to know that the person who guided her and cared for her, who was her leader in a circle among dozens of a secret society, was so cruelly unmasked in public. The cheeleaders turned their backs and stepped off the lawn. Brittany stayed and walked to Rachel.

"I was worried when I didn't see you at school yesterday. Santana said you were too tired because you had to press a button." Press a button was a slang for any activity performed within society. "She assured me it was no big deal, but I can feel when she's lying."

"Wasn't Santana the one that has a third Mexican eye that picks up these things in the air?" Rachel smiled slightly.

"Third Eye? No... I can sense it in my vagina when something isn't right. What happened?"

"Okay..." Rachel allowed herself to laugh a little. "It's not that bad, Britt. I got a mail and spent the night working on the answer. So I couldn't wake up in time and decided to kill the rest of the classes. That's it."

"So why are you limping?"

"Because I was cleanning my room and let that giant book fall on my foot."

"Oh!" Brittany didn't sound so convinced. "Santana put a white button on our closets. The meeting will be at home after the choir. "

"Do you know what it's about?"

"I have no idea. But I'm going to prepare snacks. I hope you enjoy tuna sandwiches."

"Well, Britt, do you remember that I'm vegetarian?"

"Don't be silly. This is just a myth. Nobody lives without meat."

Brittany smiled and turned away. Rachel shook her head with a small smile on her face. Even before the buttons, even when Brittany was already one of the popular girls and was rude to anyone, Rachel could never be angry with her friend's insults. Brittany was too adorable and too human to detest.

The day passed slowly. Blame the tedious routine at school: the same fake dating drama with Kurt, the monotonous classes, the tests. At times she was distracted by the interaction between Finn and Quinn. Finn was a handsome boy, one of the most desired in school, for whom Rachel had a crush. She could get his attention during rehearsals because, and she wasn't modest about it, she was a tremendous singer and Finn was her most constant partner in duets. But that wasn't glee club day.

Rachel hitchhiked with Kurt to Brittany's house after school. When the circle was together, everything was different. People who had no connection at all to school suddenly found themselves in a cohesive and humorous group. Brittany led her friends to a sort of playroom inside the mansion. It was where the circle liked to stay and talk, enjoying the warmth of space: a couch, a pool table, a big television to enjoy movies, and the videogame imported from the East. Brittany's mother offered a snack, and the group took every second of that stewardship, but not before hearing the main reason for the meeting.

Santana waited for the arrival of Matt, Blaine and Seban to complete the circle. Blaine was a talented mechanic and knew how to deal with electronic equipment (his "toys"). Seban's specialty was hacking computers and systems. The circle was completed by a fine actor (Kurt), a loyal soldier (Matt), someone capable of providing logistical support (Brittany), and a dreamer with a great photographic memory (Rachel). In Santana's eyes, that was one of the best circles of the buttons.

"Okay, let's talk business." Santana went ahead. "We have three important things to go through. The first concerns is Mr. Samuel Evans..."

"What about him?" Rachel interrupted when she saw the good friend's name being mentioned. "Wasn't his profile good? Did he do something that made you think better?"

"He's clean. In fact, Seban did an incredible job with his dossier, even if it had only two sheets." She let out a laugh that was only shared with the hacker in the group. The others didn't understand the inside joke. "Anyway, we need to increase our group and Sam is a guy who fits in here: he's attractive, he knows how to fight, he hates government, and he understands what he reads, unlike the semi-literate pachyderms being recruited by browns. If he pass the last test, Sam will be with us until next week."

The news was great for Matt and Rachel, Sam's closest friends.

"The second reason is that we have a team work to be done." She inserted a flash drive into Brittany's computer and showed some photos. "There's a little brown cell working in our school, you know, these future agents who, for the moment, are a bunch of hard fingers. We need to be careful with these people. We don't know all the persons in the brown group, but we know that Artie's father is a recruiter and have files about. There's going to be a party at his house this weekend and we'll be there. During the party, we're going to have access to the computer and steal that file." Santana showed a 3D house plan. "This is Artie's house. It has some security cameras in the outdoor area, but there are no reports of cameras inside the house. During the party, Seban will hack the cameras and deactivate them so that Blaine and I can find these files. When that happens, I need Rachel, Brittany, and Kurt to stay tuned. We need to be alerted if anyone walks into the house, especially Artie."

"What about me?" Matt asked.

"You cover Seban and drive the car. We're going to quit the party as soon as we're done. You know the signs. Should anything go wrong..."

"We don't go in and wait for the call." Kurt repeated. "We know, San. Thank God, we never need to do it."

"What's the third thing?" Matt asked.

"Enjoy the game and have fun for the rest of the afternoon. It's been a long time since we've had our little party. Just to relax a bit."

Screams and howls of approval and excitement filled the room. It was good when Santana gathered in the circle to spend time together before facing more complicated times. Seban and Matt were the most enthusiastic about the videogame challenge. The girls and Kurt talked about music and movies. Kurt was a born actor, and with such skill he could face a different persona at school: a heterosexual teenager who dated an ordinary girl. He and Rachel played their parts very well at school, but Kurt liked the buttons better because he could be himself: He could be the gay boy who liked to gossip, to look at fashion magazines, to love Blaine, and to make out with his boyfriend without risk of being indicted and imprisoned for one to three years for "indecent assault".

"Rachel." Santana said privately as Brittany and Kurt were busy dancing around the room. "You did a good job. It was stupid of you to go to headquarters on Monday, but you did very well. Not everyone has the courage to make that jump. I almost blurted myself out on my first time."

"When did you have to do this?"

"I practice differently, you know that."

"Well... adrenaline and fear helped a lot. Thank you for being there with me... in a way."

"Rachel." Santana stared into her eyes with a certainty and the next second changed her mind and decided to keep to herself. She said something else to keep the girl from expectation. "Keep up the track! It will be good for you to gain agility and endurance. Someday you might need it."

"Right."

Brittany pulled Rachel to a dance and then did the same with Santana. It wasn't long before Blaine and Matt also had fun, leaving the ever-penetrating Seban focused on the game. Santana made a bold move and kissed Brittany. Everyone knew that they were more than friends, but demonstrations of affection in "public" wasn't usual and so the other buttons applauded and greeted the secret couple. Rachel watched everything in a mixture of happiness and melancholy. She would like to have a love for herself, but she didn't know if that could be possible. Not when she had plans to leave.

...

It was the first time Rachel had stepped into Artie's house for a party. Although the two were colleagues in glee club, they weren't really friends. Rachel wasn't exactly invited to be there either (Kurt was). Well, half of the people there weren't invited. There were basically the seniors, their respective boyfriends and girlfriends, and a few other younger boys. Rachel walked into the party hand in hand with Kurt between smiles and greetings.

"Scary, isn't it?" Kurt squeezed her hand as the two sought the other buttons.

"Let's focus on our mission and we'll be fine", she repeated more to herself than to her beard.

"Do you want to reconsider something about the deal?"

They had agreed that they would kiss with a little tongues and that Kurt would lower his hands a little more. They were at a party, not at school, and that required some adjustments in the play to make it more convincing. After all, there were rumors never confirmed or denied, scattered by Puck, that they had sex on regular basis. All this benefited the disguise. Kurt, in fact, was sexually active, but he has never been with a woman. Rachel, on the other hand, was a virgin (although she knows her own body). But she didn't mind other people imagining the opposite.

"Santana's right there with Quinn's gang, and Blaine in tow." Kurt said to Rachel.

Sign that the team running the party was complete. The task of Rachel, Kurt and Brittany was to observe and, if possible, keep key characters away from the house. It wasn't a firepower that Rachel possessed, but Kurt and Brittany were very adept. The false couple of lovers kissed and separated. Rachel went to Sam and greeted him with a kiss on his cheek. She liked her friend very much and found it strange to know what the future held, but she couldn't talk about it.

"I didn't expect to find you around here", Rachel commented. "I thought you didn't like parties or Artie."

"I do not like serving at parties." Sam smiled. "But I have nothing against going to parties as a guest."

"Well, it makes perfect sense."

"Where is your guy?"

"Talking to some friends."

"He shouldn't leave you alone."

"I'm not alone." She smiled at her friend.

"Not anymore. By the way, I think I saw some of our friends right there."

Sam pointed to some of his closest friends, including Tina, Mike, and Mercedes: all non-buttons, but Rachel loved to play chitchat whenever she had a chance.

"People!" Tina nodded. "I can not believe she came! But Rach, my dear, shouldn't your BF be a different guy? Although I think Samchel is a much better couple than Kurtchel."

Rachel rolled her eyes. She hated these ship names. Unfortunately it was epidemic and she could do nothing about it.

"I do not think that's any of your business, Tina", Sam replied with a slight blush. Tina was in glee club and also working as school's gossip repórter. Sometimes it was difficult to hold her tongue.

"I thought Puck was coming with you." Mike glanced around without finding his friend.

"He's coming soon. He said he was going to be at Rebecca's."

"Who is Rebecca?" Mercedes was curious: she had a crush on the teenage womanizer.

"Apparently someone's mother." Rachel rolled her eyes.

"Where are the others?" Sam looked around hoping to see more friends.

"No one else has come so far", Tina said. "But I know an interesting gossip. I saw Quinn arguing with Finn earlier. Santana is hanging out with that kid... I forgot his name... the one with the gel-filled hair that is said to be her boyfriend. I didn't know she liked nerds. Hey, look at Puck!"

The group looked back and saw Rachel's foster brother with a very beautiful black young woman. Rachel was sorry for the girl, knowing that she would be nothing more than a fuck of the day in his hands.

After having a little fun chatting with friends, Santana passed by Rachel and made a discreet nod. The action would begin. The lights in the backyard of the house flashed and there was a momentary blackout. Nothing but a few seconds. It was enough to distract and, at the same time, not cause the problem to be taken seriously. But that was the opportunity that Santana and Blaine used to get into the house unnoticed. Rachel began to keep an eye on everyone who continued to enjoy drinks, dancing and the usual game of seduction among young people.

As Santana and Blaine searched the house, Rachel found Finn walking toward the door into de house. She had to act quickly and approached him in an act of courage she wouldn't normally have. She smiled at the tall young man.

"Hello, Finn. Nice to see you at Artie's party."

"Hi, Rachel. I was going to..."

"It seems that Artie is going to promote a karaoke session. How about a duet?" Rachel smiled.

"I can't. My throat hurts. But I think we already do good duets in rehearsals. As captains, we should give these spaces to others have fun."

Rachel frowned at the logic. It wasn't a competition. It was just karaoke, for god sake.

"Where's Kurt?" Finn asked.

"Around. Dancing with the girls, maybe. Where's Quinn?"

"I don't know... I think she is with Santana and the other girls."

"It looks like we've been abandoned by our respective significant others."

"It's not too bad."

Meanwhile, inside the house, Santana and Blaine found an empty place and could move in peace, despite the alert. With gloves, Blaine entered Arties's room and scoured it carefully to keep him from suspicion. Santana went in the other direction to what was a locked door. She would have no problem opening it because she knew that Seban outside had been able to hack the camera system and house alarm temporarily. All Santana needed was some of the tools she had in her purse. It took her less than two minutes to unlock the door and she came across an office. She had to search for some minutes until found the gold mine.

Unlike the common census, Santana tried to be calm in recognizing the terrain. Before opening any drawer, she would search first for any safety device that might exist, such as an extra camera or a sensor. Then she inspected the walls, behind the pictures, to see the existence of false safes or cabinets. In fact, there was a safe behind the board, which made Santana roll her eyes through the cliché. But she wouldn't worry about it yet. She continued her inspection on the shelf and finally on the desk. She didn't find a computer, but found some interesting documents and a pendrive.

Other than what she'd said to the circle, Santana wasn't there just because of a list of names and files about smelly teenagers. There was a second agenda commissioned by the inner circles. Artie's father was just a pawn in the game. However, it was suspected that the man could try to raise his status by acting as an informant.

"Eagle 1 for nest." She said while photographing documents and copying files.

"Nest in the listening."

"There's a safe here. Is it connected to the system?"

"Two minutes." Santana continued the quiet work. Blaine entered the office, but she signaled for him to be on the alert outside. "Eagle nest 1, the safe was connected to the house's alarm system. It's already been cut. You can work on the password."

Santana took a minicomputer and conected it in the safe. Quickly the screen indicated six numbers, which were soon typed. In the safe there was money, a few jewels, documents and another pendrive. Santana didn't want the money or the jewels. She photographed documents and copied the pendrive. Satisfied, she closed the safe, packed her things, and left the office, locking it back. Mission Accomplished. They sought to leave the house the same way they entered: unnoticed.

Back at the party, Santana and Blaine joined the usual group of friends. They were holding hands, smiling, like a couple who had just had sex. From there, they said goodbyes, as if they had plans to repeat the dose somewhere private. A behavior that left Quinn apt to distil poisonous comments, but Santana didn't care. Brittany went to get a drink and passed Rachel, giving her a signal. Strictly, Santana and Blaine would leave the party at that moment, but it didn't mean that the others had the obligation to follow them immediately. Rachel had nothing else to do at the party. She wasn't enjoying herself anyway, even with the rare opportunity to talk more than five minutes with Finn out of the glee club.

"Do you want some beer?" Finn offered.

"I don't drink." Rachel

"I cann't go out for 30 seconds and you're coming over to my man." Quinn surprised both of them and then grabbed her boyfriend's arm.

"We were just talking", Rachel said with strange humility.

"Go talk to your man. If there is anything legitimate about this story."

"What do you mean?" Rachel blushed.

"Aren't you going to tell me that you don't think your boyfriend is kind of girlish?"

"Kurt is sophisticated. He has great knowledge of etiquete and he likes refined things. He's not a rough woodcutter." Finn's eyes widened as he noticed his own clothes. Flanela was the same as a lumberjack. The symbology was clear. He felt stricken. Rachel didn't notice her friend's discomfort. She was too busy staring at Quinn. "And for your consideration, Kurt know how to please a woman." She approached as if she wanted to speak privately, but not so much. "I can assure you it's true."

Finn was disgusted by the conversation. He released Quinn and left the two enemies alone. Rachel saw that she had exaggerated.

"You think you're smart, don't you, dwarf? That you have nothing to lose. Because of that, you feel superior in some way."

"Maybe I really am. Perhaps I am superior, but not for the things you have listed. I have an open door in front of me. I can be whatever I want. While you will be forever trapped in your father's dirty life."

"At least I have a father." Quinn struggled not to cry in front of the enemy.

"I would have one too... if your father hadn't signed his death sentence just because he had opinions of his own."

"Your father was a depraved."

"And yours killed several innocent people because they had different opinions. Which is worse? I prefer a thousand times to live under the same roof with a man considered depraved because he loves another man, even because I know there is nothing wrong with it, than living with a murderous bureaucrat."

Quinn approached the smaller girl dangerously, leaving their faces inches apart. Rachel could feel the rich girl's breathing and warmth to the point of a slight chill in her spine. But she didn't care for her own body's reactions: all she did was keep facing the opponent, not lowering her eyes for a second. If Quinn ever tried to downgrade her at all costs even with Rachel always defending herself, imagine what she wouldn't be able to do if the button had a posture of submission?

"Be careful with your words, Berry. Listen to this advice I give you for free: beware of your unfounded opinions and accusations. Your words may kill you."

"I'm not afraid of you, Fabray. Do you want to report me? Do you want to see me arrested? Do it!"

Quinn pulled away and smiled wryly.

"And lose my punching bag? No, Berry! We still have the rest of the year so I have the pleasure of stepping into you before I see you in jail."

"Is that what you think will happen?"

"I'm sure." And Quinn approached Rachel again. "Do you know what the agents do to little girls like you in jail?"

"Is this what you want to happen, Fabray? That I be raped systematically in jail? Is this your wish? You're a monster."

The questioning surprised Quinn, who stepped back once more. Her features also changed, as if she was in shock for having an idea that had never really gone through her mind. She said that as one more empty threat, but realized that it could become a reality: that abuses in prison were routine for many prey, especially for politics. Did she want this to happen to Rachel or any other girl? Quinn had a lot of anger inside her, and she tried to deal with it, sometimes in some unhealthy or noble ways. But this was a rage she didn't feel about Rachel, and the rape of the body was an experience she wouldn't really wish on anyone. This was clear in her mind, yet she couldn't muster the slightest apology that Rachel deserved.

As soon as Rachel saw her colleague's retreat, she turned her back on Quinn. Rachel walked out the door and called Kurt. The fake boyfriend met her and the two buttons left the party together.

Mission Accomplished.


	5. Blue button

When the buttom circle met three days after the party, Santana was already settling for the serious conversation she would have with the group. As if she had planned to give a lecture: she printed a few sheets to distribute and prepared the computer. As usual, she waited for all the members to arrive before speaking the most important matter. On a rare occasion, Rachel was late because she got stuck in a technical education class meant mostly for students who probably wouldn't go to college. The selection system for higher education was very clear. The board of honor students, as was the case with Quinn Fabray, had a guaranteed ticket with scholarship. The others had to take the entrance examination with the remaining vacancies, and this process was very difficult because there were few universities in the country with few scholarships offered to the poorest. If the student didn't belong to the honor roll or didn't have a rich father, it was better to guarantee choosing in the curriculum grid technical teaching subjects. Obviously, no technical matter involved music and arts in general. As soon as arrived, Rachel sat down next to Seban and tried to hide the frustrations of the day.

"Thank you guys," Santana began. "Once again we were very successful. We were able to find the files we were looking for and this will give us great advantage."

Santana didn't say that she found more information than the circle could have imagined, but these were compartmentalized and destined for the upper circles of the Buttons. Not that the omission was serious: these matters didn't concern the circle that gravitated in an orbit so external to the center of the secret organization.

"In this list are the names of the students in our school who are part of the group of brown shirts. Those that are underlined are those who are likely to go to the training academy for agents."

"San..." Rachel interrupted. "Why did you put Puck's name here?" The answer was obvious, but she didn't want to believe it.

"I'm sorry," the leader said. "I'm sorry that Puck is a brown shirt in disguise. But you must face things head on. The fact is that Puck is part of this system that we fight against. You can't trust him for a second."

"And what will we do?" Kurt asked.

"Our work, in this case, has already been done. Now it's a job for another circle. What we have to do now is to continue acting normally. The difference is that now we know who we can not trust at all. Personally, the consequences can be very serious if we show frustrations in front of these people. It's like a roulette wheel."

"I just don't understand how people like Quinn and Finn aren't on the list," Matt noted. Quinn was a name that might be obvious since she was the daughter of a congressman from the more conservative and fascist wing of the party. Finn's father was killed in combat for the coup and it was also natural that he sympathized with the regime in which his father defended. At least that's what everyone but Rachel could think.

"Just as Brittany's father is a member of the central party, but he's a Button, too." Santana replied. "Things are more complex than hereditary positions, so to speak. Finn has nothing to do with his father's activities, but it doesn't mean that we should trust him, even for being an idiot. Quinn... she's complicated."

"Finn isn't an idiot!" Rachel protested.

"Sorry, Rachel. Everybody knows about you crush on that asshole giant, but it's not because he's seemingly harmless to be trusted. Finn may even be a good kid, but he doesn't have a proper profile, he has no motivations. Besides, he is a complete insecure jerk with the desire for leadership that he doesn't have, deluded by the talent he doesn't possess, not to mention that he is a spoiled little boy and tends to be intemperate. The chairs that say so."

"It's my brother you're talking about, Santana." Kurt snorted.

"Is that so?" Santana was calm but not relieved. "So you'd trust Finn with your secret dating? Would you tell him you're gay?"

"I... I..." Kurt still tried rehearsing. Knowing his brother since his father was married to Finn's mother, he could say that Finn had a good heart. But Santana had a point, no matter how hard her words were: Finn was indeed mined, childish, and tended to burst his own frustrations at inopportune moments.

"Guys." Santana turned back to the group. "Study those names, but be very careful with the list. It's to protect us, but you must tear it off as soon as possible so that you don't take risks. I don't think I need to remind you of this."

Upon returning home, Rachel tried to convince herself that she could continue to act normally in the presence of her foster brother. She greeted the women of the house and noticed a magazine on the table. It was a weekly official publication that basically spoke of all the "wonders" of the administration and the government's efforts to keep the country "clean". From what, she doesn't know. Maybe that magazine had been around the house for days without Rachel having noticed, after all, it was a freely circulating publication. She flipped through a few pages: nothing more than a picture of the fantasy island. It was just propaganda without any journalistic value, but Rachel understood that there were people who believed in that house, which was very sad. The government controled all communication system, just like the press. No one would publish truths just to be arrested the other day. Fear prevailed and fascist propaganda circulated unopposed.

There were circles on the buttons that were responsible for producing opposition material, which was distributed clandestinely. Many of these tiny, clandestine newspapers brought international news that weren't published, as well as denunciations against the government. But it was hard to find them in the streets. A person could be detained and called upon to give explanations if found with a buttom's newspaper in hand. People like Anna and Puck simply said they were terrorist publications and chose to believe in government. It was easier and safer.

Puck arrived at home. He smiled at the women and went straight to his bedroom. When he returned, he sat down on the couch and watched a little television. It was the same old Puck, who was talking sexist bullshit. Rachel one day thought she could trust him. Now, she felt like crying when she faced with reality.

...

Sam looked for the hundredth time to the sealed package. A little girl delivered it a week ago and when he opened the first package, he found a second package plus a letter with specific instructions. He couldn't open that package, couldn't show it or comment on it with absolutely no one. It was a dangerous object that, if anyone found it, could take him to jail. But in that letter there were also some options. One was that Sam could deliver the package to the agents and help the government unmask a network of opponents. The alternative was to deliver such a package at a specific date, time and place. Someone would try to buy it somehow.

Sam put the package away. He was perfectly aware that the material he kept was dangerous, which could lead him to jail. Even so, he took risks because he wanted the whole political scene to explode.

He was sitting on his bed in the small room he shared with the other two brothers. There wasn't much privacy around, but Sam didn't mind. He ran his hand through his long hair: he needed an urgent cut, but he was too lazy to take better care of his appearance. He would leave aesthetic for later. He took the package from the bottom of the drawer he held and placed it in his backpack. He prayed for everything to work out. He said goodbye to his younger brother, kissed his mother's face, and stepped onto the old scooter that cost a young life in savings.

He didn't have to read the note one more time to know where to go. The administrative center of the small town was a guarded place. There were dozens of cops and agents around, and Sam couldn't imagine why someone would send him to that place to do an act of subversion. On the other hand, he was excited, wanted to pay to see. Not that he was a rebel - well, actually he was a bit - but he was another one who was tired and who had pressed the fuck button. He was afraid, of course, but if he were to be arrested there for a promise from someone about a life with some meaning, then let it go.

The square was the only place with some attraction for civic tourism. Not that someone paid a trip to know that little town when there is the capital of the country. Either way, people liked to run around because it was supposedly safe and open environment, moreover, the only bank in the city was there. According to the note, Sam sat on a bench in the square and waited with the supposedly subversive material inside the backpack. He couldn't help it, but the feeling of committing an unlawful and dangerous act right in front of the parliamentary palace was very attractive. He sat and waited.

Some people sat there quickly, but none spoke to him. That made him more and more anxious. Whoever approached him was late for almost 20 minutes, but he remained seated. Until a familiar face sat beside him. Everyone in the school knew Santana: besides one of Quinn's henchmen, she was famous for her sharp tongue and for being a cheerleader. But Sam never had any bond of friendship with the girl. He talked sometimes with her only because of the choir. He thought she was arrogant and full of herself. At the same time, Sam thought Santana was a reactionary sympathizer of the fascists. Anyway, he was surprised that someone from the school he'd barely talked to was sitting right there in that public seat on the day he was crazy to meet the person he would trust the dangerous package.

"I didn't know losers like you enjoyed pigeons in a public square," Santana said with the usual venom in her voice.

"I didn't know what winners like you like to waste time with losers on a public bench. It must be some fetish."

Santana smiled at the answer. She liked people with pride.

"Sometimes I like to waste time."

"How nice."

Santana stood beside the boy, testing his patience, not neglecting the surrounding environment.

"Do you want something?" Sam asked annoyed at the girl's prolonged presence.

"Perhaps."

"What for example?"

"Sometimes I like to sit here, talk to people, even change objects." She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a blue button. Sam's eyes widened and he was incredulous that his contact was fair to Santana. "Would you like to exchange something for this button?"

The young man took the backpack and, trembling, afraid of making a mistake, removed the wrapped package. Then he offered the other.

"I... I guess that belongs to you," he said uncertainly. Santana looked at the package and smiled.

"No, that's up to you. Open it!"

"On here? But..."

"If you really want to meet another world and people who care: open up."

Sam stared at the young woman and frowned. Anyway, he opened the package as she had been suggested, but secretly he felt the fear of having something there that would have him arrested. His heart was racing, his mouth dry, but he kept going anyway because he wanted to know. Seeing the contents, he frowned again. It wasn't possible.

"This is the sacred book of the regime." He began to leaf through, imagining that the cover was false to disguise the subversive content. Santana smiled at the young man's perplexity.

"You already read?"

"I'm not interested in that."

"Yes, that is your mistake. Of course it's not just yours, but most of the population. People are often led by summaries, by words of orders and utopian messages. This book has a lot of it, you know? Words of order, utopian landscapes, ideology, declared enemies and even some poetry. People choose to believe this, without necessarily questioning the contradictions that exist in the text itself. They don't even question how these ideologies are applied in the real world. It is easier and simpler to follow a slogan, an exciting speech without even thinking about what is behind those words: and they are revealing. But the reality of the world is not Manichaean. It's not that simple. From the moment you read this book that tries to indoctrinate you, from the moment you can identify contradictions in it and start asking questions whose answers aren't in here, well, you have a good start."

"They promised me freedom, Santana. What is it?"

"Education is the beginning of the conquest of this freedom. It's what they don't want because it's easier to maneuver a doctrinaire and non-questioning population, so they forbid certain books and make blacklists of people dangerous to the regime. But a button is not a pawn, you know? A button knows and thinks for itself. And when you think for yourself, you are free."

"A button?"

"This blue button is an invitation to an alternative: one that needs to be kept secret: something you're good to do. Accepting this button will also allow you to meet people who aren't conformed and you will see that you are not alone."

"Accept a button... for free?"

"It's not free. Accepting the blue button means you will need to donate your sweat to a cause when you are asked. But you will defend a cause knowing exactly why you have to fight for it. I don't lie that it is an extremely dangerous way. The point is, are you going to change your life forever?"

"All I have to do is accept the blue button?"

"Basically."

Sam took the button and slipped it into his pants pocket. Santana smiled and invited him to meet some people: the circle in which he would even be.


	6. Break down

"So you and Kurt ..."

Rachel shook her head with a small smile on her face. She and Samuel Evans had been sitting on the lawn atop a small hill in the park for half an hour from where they had a good view of the nearby streets. The bag of popcorn was coming to an end and Rachel was telling some little stories about the Buttons for the new member of the circle. At least, as far as she knew she could elucidate her friend, who was still a mere beginner shallow bud.

"It's just a play. You know Kurt can't get out of the closet for his own safety. And you know him: he's gentler than an average kid would allow himself to be. People already think he is gay."

"True!" Sam was still stunned by some of the revelations. "I can't say that Kurt is a surprise and I only knew Blaine by sight, but Brittany and Santana too? Wow! This contradicts all the stories circulating in the locker room. "

"As well?"

"That they are easy girls, especially Brittany. With all due respect, Puck says he can detail Santana's vagina... sorry if I was rude, but sex dominates the subject in the locker room. Either that or training."

"How many times did he say he fucked her?" Rachel grunted.

Sam blushed a little bit. On the other hand, it was exactly what Puck said about Santana, as well as other girls from school. Puck just didn't comment on Quinn's vagina because he could get in bad mood with Finn and it wasn't desirable to look bad with the captain of the team, especially when Finn was so influential with the coach. Even though Finn wasn't technically the best, even though Sam himself was a better quarterback.

"I don't know. Too many?"

"I can't say I'm an expert on the intimate life of our honorable leader, but as far as I know, Santana and Puck have slept only once." Rachel blushed at the embarrassing scene. According to Santana, she only slept with Puck to keep an image in school. "I know she's slept with some other guys too, but I also know that she really loves Brittany. It's not that I want to justify why she sleep with guys. I don't even understand Santana's attitudes..."

"Everybody has its own problems to solve, right?" Sam himself was embarrassed. He didn't intended to go gossiping about another button, specialy the leader. He felt like he was part of something important and didn't want to disappoint. However, since he and Rachel had an open and revealing conversation, he was curious to know one more thing. "What about Finn Hudson?"

"What about him?" Rachel frowned.

"You kind of look like, sometimes, that you into him. Finn says he would have nothing more than friendship with you over Kurt. But you and Kurt are just beards. So..."

"I like Finn, it's true. But I don't want to talk about it. It's complicated."

"Okay." Sam stared at the red sun that hit the horizon. The colors of twilight were one of Sam's favorite scenarios. "Santana says that every button in a circle has a function. What is yours?"

"Basically I do what Santana says, I listen and keep the secret... and I have photographic memory and a sensitive ear. Sometimes she needs me to help her to decode small audio details. Sometimes I help her in some operations doing the stage part. Sometimes she order us to do small tasks for the buttons."

Rachel didn't lie. It was basically what she was doing inside the circle of buttons. The difference between her and a shallow button was her knowledge and her access to the structure and organization of society. The Buttons were divided into cells, or circles, as they liked to name. The outer ones were formed basically by the workers of the organization, or shallow buttons. The inner ones, by the leaders or big buttons. Thus a complex hierarchical network was formed in which a leader from an outside circle responded to a leader from a more inner circle and so on until he reached the central command.

Even within the circle itself there were differences between the buttons. Starting with the existence of a leader, in the case: Santana. And depending on the merits and functions of each, the accesses were released in the form of the desirable metal button with technology and database capable of making the elevator descend. Rachel had hers. Sometimes she didn't understand what she did for deserving it, but Rachel was happy to have it. Like her, Matt and Seban were the others with their own access, and, of course, the leader. Brittany was too flippant to have such an important object on her own. Blaine and Kurt were loyal to the group basically because it was a safe environment that allowed them to be, but Santana never thought they deserved to own the metal button, despite being able to defend them with life if need be. In addition, Blaine and Kurt could get to know the basement seat if Santana allowed.

"Don't we make those clandestine newspapers, or organize marches, or mark walls?

"The newspapers are made by other circles. This circle don't organize marches, not directly, and I know that there are people who like to mark walls with slogans, but this is not necessarily our activity. It's more for individual ventures made not necessarily by buttons."

"What about Santana?" Sam asked.

"It's her job to keep us together and make sure we're not going to betray the society." Rachel became more closed. "Don't worry. It's not like she's going to kill you or something." Rachel forced a smile. Deep down, she knew that Santana was fully capable of killing a traitor if she thought it would prevent a disaster.

"But do you really think we can make a difference doing such things?"

Rachel stared at Sam with a frown. She looked back at the remaining trace of the sun on the horizon. Then she elaborate a sincere answer.

"Maybe I'm not like that Chinese kid who stopped a tank and showed important things to the world. Certainly I'm not the one who will change the political system and promote the reopening. But I know I make a difference when I serve as a beard for Kurt. Being gay is not a crime, but did you know that if a gay couple gets caught simply in a public place it's considered a violent indecent assault? Imagine Kurt being equated with a rapist for kissing Blaine? And if it is proved that one has a stable homoaffective relation, as was the case of my parents, the penalty can be death: life imprisonment and forced labor in the best scenario. So, yes, I make a difference to this person. I feel like my parents would be proud of me. I'm not writting articles or fighting in the streets, but the little things I do can make some difference. And I'm sure many buttons make a huge difference in my life. It's worth fighting for these little things."

"Thank you, Rach!" Sam spoke again after a few minutes of reflective silence.

"Why?"

"For showing that I even made the right decision to became a button despite all of Santana's terrorism." Rachel laughed at her friend.

"Caution! She's our leader." Rachel laughed even harder.

"Thank you for remembering it..." Sam frowned and then smiled with his friend.

They walked out of the park and Sam gave Rachel a ride to her house on the old moped. At that moment, the Puckermen were gathered around the dinner table, just as Rachel could see through the window. But it wasn't the scene of a happy family, as in the movies or in the advertisements where the smiling mother was seen serving her husband and children: all white with perfect teeth and rosy cheeks in a country with minimun ethnic mix. The margarine advertisement in that house consisted of a mother sitting at the table complaining about her job in the nursery and how a child's cry made her angry. Little Natalie barely touched her food and preferred to paint a picture, sprinkling a few chalks on the table. Puck was checking his cell phone with a half-way dish when Rachel went home.

"Look who's finally here!" Puck said provocatively.

"I was at Kurt's doing school work. Sam gave me a ride." Rachel said before disappearing into the basement, straight into her room.

Calmly, she packed up the school supplies, used the bathroom, washed her face, and went upstairs to face the Puckermen. Since she knew Puck was a brown shirt, the routine didn't change. Santana encouraged them to continue doing all the same things because change of attitudes would arouse suspicion. Still, inside, everything has changed. Rachel couldn't trust Puck anymore and it was very painful to her.

"What's this magazine?" Rachel asked as she got into the living room before moving to a table and saw Puck sitting on the couch while reading a publication.

"Some guys gave me. There are very interesting things here about enlistment."

"What?" Rachel's heart began to pound.

"Do You think I'd be handsome with a uniform?" Puck showed an illustration on the page. "It could give me a lot of ladies and I will still be a respectable person who does the right thing. Not to mention that life insurance is great."

"Right thing?" Rachel almost rolled her eyes and held herself so she wouldn't start a discussion, but she couldn't resist. "Since when hitting young people in the streets is the right thing?"

"These are not just young people, Rach, they are criminals and terrorists, our government authorizes marches and claims, but these terrorists don't respect rules. They have their own agenda to destroy our society and families."

"So my father was a terrorist that want to destroy families?"

"I know you're sensitive to this, so I'll give you a discount, okay? But you see: your father went to illegal protests and even threw rocks at who was there to protect him. It's not right. And, as it turns out, he wasn't content to keep his way of life private. Nothing against, but no one needs to see two guys kissing in the middle of the public square."

"Maybe we'll never agree on that."

"I think not. That's why it's not worth discussing."

"You're right." Rachel forced a smile. "It's not very healthy to dwell on the past. I'm sure you'll look gorgeous in a uniform."

"Of course I will."

Rachel turned her attention to the TV screen. There was a national comedy movie that she had seen a few times and she couldn't laugh at the recycled jokes anymore. Puck's cell phone rang and he smiled as he looked at the caller ID. It was another call from a school girl who would open her legs to him. Poor girl.

...

Rachel got up early to practice. She was still getting used to the new routine and didn't think it was that simple to wake up earlier than usual to go to school, to stretch out in the rain or in the sun, to run, to practice techniques, to go to the locker room, to take a shower, to change clothes , attend all classes, and even do the afternoon glee club. It was tiring, but she had to admit that she already felt certain differences in her body. She was getting physically stronger and more resistant.

Despite being part of the athletic team for weeks, Rachel still felt like a Foreigner. She couldn't find an interesting subject to hold a conversation with the other girls for more than two minutes. The others liked to gossip about students and teachers or talk about sex. Generally they called each other sluts and Rachel wasn't interested in that. The coach began introducing pole vaulting techniques to Rachel. It seemed to be the ideal modality for someone small and slim. Parallel to this, Rachel also trained as if she were to do races of 1,500m and 3,000m because of her biotype.

That day, Santana was in the stands watching the team. Rachel resisted the urge to nod. That nice little gesture would scare the leader away. Instead, she chose to focus more on the exercises and show how much better she was. At the end of training Rachel didn't see Santana anymore and was a bit disappointed.

By the time she reached the women's locker room after the practice, most of her colleagues were on their way out. Rachel even preferred to be alone there. She took a shower and dressed in her regular clothes. Puck was right when he said that being on any sports team at school was a big advantage. Since Rachel began to run, she hasn't become more popular. On the other hand, people no longer bothered her like they used to.

Quinn walked into the locker room in the meantime. She ran to the sink to wash her face. Rachel walked to the mirrors beside Quinn. Casual movement. She wanted to comb her hair. That's when she noticed her fellow colleague.

"What happened to your face?" Rachel was frightened to see Quinn's lip cut and her purple cheek, as if Quinn had taken a very hard slap. Or a series of them.

"It's none of your business!" Quinn transfigured herself into awe as she realized that water had taken some of the makeup she was wearing as a disguise. Then her eyes raged.

"Sorry, I didn't mean..." Rachel lowered her head.

"You didn't mean what, dwarf?" Quinn rumbled over Rachel's personal space. "Plot stories in your hollow head to humiliate me?" Quinn spoke up without even feeling her own despair. "Must be a great opportunity for you!"

"Quinn I did not ..."

"Do not lie!"

And the slap came that Rachel received for free. It wasn't the first slap in her life, but it was the first one she got to worry and want to be kind to someone. Hence her confusion not only with the slap, but also when she realized that Quinn was going up on her as if willing to kill her.

"You always humiliate me with words. You always humiliate me with your talent. With your attitude." Another slap. "It makes me feel like crap." And another one. "I hate you, Rachel Berry! I hate that you make me feel small! Why don't you disappear from my life?"

All Rachel did was try to defend herself. Quinn had cornered her against the wall. Rachel tried to protect her head and face with her arms. She begged Quinn to stop, but all she heard as answers was incoherence. She felt Quinn's knee banging against her stomach. Rachel lost her breath and her feathers faltered. Then the contact ceased.

"Let me go!" Quinn was pushed by Santana, who was already between the captain of the cheerios and Rachel. "Santana, get out of my way."

"One more step and you go to the ground, Fabray!" Santana warned.

Quinn didn't hear. In three Santana's movements, Quinn found herself pressed to the ground and felt a violent pain from the sprained arm. She screamed and Santana slapped her head.

"Pay attention, Fabray. I'll let you out. So you're going to try to attack someone else somewhere else, okay? I don't care. But you will forget Berry for a while for the sake of your mental health."

Quinn screamed once more and Santana set her free. Quinn straightened her uniform, straightened her ponytail, and left. Santana waited for the knock on the door before turning to Rachel still sitting on the floor.

"Are you okay?" Santana analyzed the damage.

"I did nothing to her. She started to attack me with no reason... "

"I know I know! Quinn is out of her head. She's really broken, I think."

"Her face was purple, San. As if someone had beaten her."

"Purple, huh?" Rachel nodded to confirm. Santana sat down beside her and frowned as she always did when she was processing information to formulate a theory or come to a conclusion.

"Do you think she's in trouble at home or something?"

"Russell Fabray abusing his daughter? I wouldn't be surprised. What I know is that for Quinn to attack you with such fury, it means she's on the edge."

"What are you going to do?" Rachel was curious.

"You'll find out soon enough. For now, Rachel Berry, I say you got what you wanted."

"Got what?"

"You have to defend yourself..."

"You mean that..."

"I'll teach you self-defense techniques only, okay? I'll tell you later when we'll start."

Santana got up and held out her hand for Rachel to do the same. Despite the pain, she was satisfied. Rachel managed to reverse one of the leader's refusals. And if Santana was willing to train her in person, it was likely that Rachel's deepening of buttons would happen soon.

"Stay out of trouble." Santana warned and turned away, but before she stepped out of Rachel's field of vision, she turned to one last warning. "About you making the next solo at the glee club ... you can forget it. I'm going to show Schuester why I deserve to be the next soloist."

"We will see." Rachel smiled lightly.

Then she frowned again, when Santana left. Quinn Fabray had a heavy hand. And what a terrible way to discover such a particularity.

...

Quinn had a habit of parking the car in a space away from the school building. It was a relatively private place that faced the football field. While each student with a car (and those weren't many) preferred the shortest route, Quinn was the type who didn't mind walking around a bit more. Parking the car in that place guaranteed more privacy, among other things, to cry. She had many reasons for it. So, after the fight with Rachel, she ran into the car without caring about the day's classes. She closed the door, turned on the sound, and began to cry against the wheel.

"Drive to the park." Santana opened the car's door and entered uninvited.

"Santana ... get out of here or I swear..." Quinn said menacingly.

"Yada, yada, yada. I don't care. Just do as I told you. Unless you want me to hit you right here."

Quinn stopped crying in a state of astonishment that she took her friend's attitude. For all the years of high school, Santana has always been the petty and, in a way, vulgar girl who stood beside her like a great watchdog. She never questioned Quinn, obeyed like a good subordinate, didn't betray her. As a payment, Quinn allowed Santana to join her social group, even though Santana was a poor girl. Quinn thought she was being kind and charitable.

"Do you want to have this conversation here? Fine by me!" Santana continued to speak firmly, with a slight cynical tone. "I thought maybe a little walk would help you calm down, and maybe - and I say, maybe - we can talk about your lover."

"What?" Quinn reacted in bewilderment.

"Wasn't your lover that made you a punching bag? It's him or your father. What did you do, Fabray? Did you refuse to open your legs to that politician as your father ordered?"

"Santana, I swear..."

"Do you want to have this conversation here? I swear that having a walk in the park is much more enjoyable. Your choice. One way or another, Fabray, I'm here to help you, not to judge you. Of course, if you get smart on me, I promise you'll end up with much worse bruises on your body. But since I think you're going to make the right decision, we'll be fine."

Quinn, still amazed at Santana's attitude, just started the car.


	7. rumours

_Guest:_ _How could kurt hide being gay? When He speaks and sings, he squeals like a little piglet._

 _Dear Guest, first of all, thank you for the question and the comment. It turns out that Kurt can't act like himself. He must pretend in this fascist society addressed in this fic. A society where say you can be gay but you can't be gay in public places or you will be arrested. A society in which the people who assume themselves suffer discrimination and social isolation. This is what leads Kurt to pretend to be heterosexual and use Rachel as a beard. Still, as you may have noticed in the dialogues between Rachel and Quinn in Chapter 4 and of Sam and Rachel in Chapter 6, Kurt's staging is not perfect._

...

...

When Rachel saw the message from Santana that self-defense classes would begin, the first thing that came to mind when she learned of the address was that the leader had lost her mind. Rachel thought Santana would teach her in someone's house or even some dark place where no one could witness. But in one of the most exclusive gyms of the city? It was a great surprise for Rachel. She got on a bus and got off at the nearest bus stop. There wasn't a bus line running around every noble neighborhood because apparently the rich didn't ride public transportation. Thankfully the gym was in a shopping center on the block next to the nearest drop. The path itself wasn't unknown. Rachel had done it several times to work on the parties of families like the Fabrays, and on the times she had gone to the Pierces' house.

Rachel looked at the frontage of the academy. External white and green walls, large windows, the view of the ample space of the apparatus room that is clear for those who are outside. People coming in and out with proper clothes and washcloths. Rachel looked at herself: she only had the school's physical education uniform: the same one she wore in athletic training. Judging by the look of contempt from one of the girls she crossed, the uniform wouldn't make a good impression. Not that she cared, but there were times when the eyes of judgment were heavy, especially those who denounced social distances. In church people said that everyone is equal before God, but the world outside the temple door it was quite different.

"I'd like to speak to Santana Lopez, please. We set a timetable..." Rachel said shyly to the receptionist: a skinny black girl very well dressed in the gym's own clothes uniform. Of those in which the logo is well stamped, as of a famous brand.

"Your name?

"Rachel Berry."

The recepcionist checked in a handwritten note.

"So, you're San's girl. You can come in." The recepcionist said with a smile, showing simplicity of who didn't belong to that world at all. She only worked on it. It was a feeling that Rachel knew very well. "My name is Bianca." The girl smiled as she asked Rachel to accompany her inside. "You can scream for me if Santana is mean to you. She's bad with lots of people here. Even with those who don't deserve it."

"That's my Santana..." Rachel thought.

They went upstairs where the academy was divided into some rooms. There was a pilates session going on in one of them. In another, a small group of four students plus the coach did some of these fashionable aerobic activities. And yet there was the weight room that was not full. Santana was in the room that had a mat. She was dressed in a black knit shirt and white martial arts pants. Bianca knocked on the door before opening unceremoniously with an impressed Rachel.

"Your order, San. She seems to be a good girl... don't be mean to her."

"I'm a lady!" Santana responded with false surprise at the insinuation. "The bitch of this place is you."

"Go on!" Bianca smiled before turning her back and leaving.

Rachel stared at Santana as if she were an alien, her feet stuck in the space next to the door, too impressed to move.

"I know that what you do in the time you aren't in school or with us is a mystery... to me in particular... but I never imagined that you could attend such a place."

"Want to breathe, dwarf?" Santana put her hands around her waist.

"So far I will be dwarf here too?!" Rachel said with false indignation. Santana would be able to call her any degrading nickname even in an official event. Either that or Berry.

"The day you grow five centimeters, I stop calling you a dwarf." Santana smiled discreetly. She knew her mean acts were sometimes funny. She greeted the mat before leave it and heading to Rachel. "I want you to know that none of this officially has to do with buttons. OK? It's between you and me and it needs to be clear." Rachel nodded. "I'll train you for you. That simple. I don't want to see you get caught in the street."

"As for that, I'm grateful. I just didn't understand why here? I didn't even know you went to this gym. Not that it's bad, but I'm surprised... that's it."

"I guess I can tell a exposition before we start to work." Santana smiled. "This is Master Marcus gym."

"I still don't understand..."

"When I was a kid, I was part of this social project sponsored by Master Marcus, who is one of the partners in that place. He taught Taekwondo to the kids in my neighborhood. I was about six when I started practice. My father thought it was a great option to make me expend a little energy: I was small and skinny, but I could climb the house and still jump on the neighbor's roof. My mother went crazy, well, you know her. So I started to do the classes and soon I stood out. It turns out that Master Marcus is a button..."

"He was the one who recruited you? I thought it was Mr. Pierce."

"Mr. Pierce made me official as a button when I was 10, but it was Master Marcus who saw potential in me. I started to practice more things than taekwondo... but that's another story. Well, the social project was closed down in my neighborhood, but once a week the kids from these poorer areas come here and have some fun, you know? And I teach them."

"Is that a button work?"

"No. I mean, ideologically you can say yes, but it's not official, you know? This is not a sieve for recruitment. It's just something to help kids like me. The kids have fun here and I have fun with them. That is the purpose."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"It never occurred to me."

"Your parents have never say anything either."

"I asked them not to. Anyway, not that it's a secret, but it's my thing and I don't like to talk about it out there."

"Simple like that?" Rachel asked in amazement at how such information could be beaten.

"Simple like that!" Santana took Rachel's bag and tossed it against her friend's chest, not very gently. "I'll show you where the locker room is. We don't have much time to spare."

"And you can teach other people here?"

"I don't work here, Rachel. I'm not an employee. Technically, the gym's administration gives me space for social work with the kids and, as courtesy, I can use the space to practice. I've never done this before, but I'm sure there's no problem at all. We're going to work at a time when this room will be empty and Marcus won't deny me giving a free pass to someone else. Especially someone who talks to buttons."

"You mean you'll still be my master, after all?" Rachel grinned.

"Technically I can only be called kyo san nim, means that I'm an instructor. It's what my Dan allows." Santana was a Ee Dan, a second degree black belt.

"You're full of surprises, San."

"We are wasting time with so many questions. In 45 minutes, the kids are coming."

Rachel shifted quickly. The short time didn't allow Santana to devote herself better to her now student and all she did was to teach some fall and rolling exercises. Rachel tried to complain, thinking that this was less than she could assimilate. After all, she had trained on the mattress in athletics three times a week. But Rachel still didn't understand certain precepts of the martial arts, that before giving a punch, it was necessary to know how to fall.

The kids arrived. Four girls and six boys between seven and eleven years old. Everyone with lots of energy to spend. Two already had a yellow belt and one in the green, which indicated that they had been on the project for some time. As Rachel stood in a corner of the mat, training falls and bearings, she flushed in embarrassment when the green belt kid, the eldest of the group, began correcting her with patience and politeness. It wasn't dishonor. In martial arts, what counts is the degree and not the age. Rachel didn't even have a dobok, the taekwondo uniform, which meant she was under a white belt.

At the end of the class, the kids had a little recreation. Rachel was amazed to see Santana playing with one of the girls: easy smile on her face. One that was rare to see. She thought that only Brittany was capable of pulling one of those from the leader. Rachel's heart nearly melted at the sight, so she shook her head as she caught herself admiring too much. Having a crush on Santana would be strange and complicated in several ways. It was better to even think about it.

"Let's go?" Santana said after changing her clothes. She was back in the normal sexy and chic teenage costume she always wore when she wasn't in a cheerleader's uniform. She put on her leather jacket and offered Rachel a helmet.

"Are you going to give me a ride? On your bike?"

"What's the problem?"

"How am I going to explain this at home? Puck thinks if you get less than a meter away from me, you would be able to rip my head off and make barbecue from my soft parts. He can be suspicious."

"That's not so important."

"Since when? You said that we shouldn't be closer in school."

"That's not so important anymore, that's what I mean. It's not that you are a complete stranger to me in the eyes of other people. We are together in glee club and we can be allied from time to time."

"So you're going to leave me at home?"

"Or I can drop you off near your home." Santana blinked and threw a helmet at Rachel.

Of course with Santana, nothing was so simple. Rachel needed to carry the leader's backpack on her back and still hold her own with one arm while with the other she clutched at Santana's waist as if her life depended on it. It wasn't that she was afraid of motorcycles, but the ones she used to hitchhike once in a while, read Sam's moped, was much slower, especially with two people.

Santana left Rachel at the entrance of the street where she lived. The leader decided it was best to avoid questioning look from the brown shirt, a.k.a Noel Puckerman. Rachel was still amazed to know more about the leader's story. Santana was so closed, even her friends, that Rachel thought it impossible to get any information out, even if it wasn't a secret. It sharpened her curiosity. Rachel wanted to know why Santana decided to train her only after she'd picked up Quinn and even if some other member knew this other side. She wanted to know so many other things about the buttons, the group, the leader. Rachel understood, on the other hand, that she had to have patience.

She entered the house. Natalie ran to embrace her excited to have been chosen as the lead actress of a children's play she would make at school. Rachel was happy for her foster sister, of whom she was nice.

"Mrs. Spencer left a message for you," Anna informed Rachel. "It looks like she wants to pay you for tutoring her boy."

"Great!" Rachel thanked her foster mom. "Private lessons give the best money."

"It's been three weeks since you got anything," Anna said roughly.

"I don't always get jobs in a row." Rachel tried to control her voice in the subtle collection of the tutor.

"Still, you love being late. Not to mention that you sleep in your boyfriend's house. For this you have time, don't you?"

"It's just that I spent a little more time with Kurt and my friends..."

"You know I don't mind you spending your nights with your little boyfriend, Rachel. But everything has a limit. It won't work if you just have fun and don't help with things from here."

"I don't stop doing things here, and I always give money to you when I have some."

Rachel said firmly, still in a low, respectful tone. The desire was to throw in Anna's face that the most money in the budget that she received from the government was solely and exclusively because of her. It was compensation for the act of 'altruistic' in receiving orphans at home. That should be enough, but Anna always demanded that Rachel contribute financially whenever she got a job. To avoid further fights, Rachel agreed to give some of what she get, the other part she kept in a savings account.

"I don't like it ... something tells me you're getting into trouble."

"I never brought a problem here, Anna. No school complaints, nothing!" Rachel rehearsed a stronger reaction.

"It's just a warning, Rachel. I know you're responsible enough and I give you all the freedom you need. Just don't bring confusion into this house." Seeing the girl's firm face, Anna pondered. "Sorry... things are getting harder and harder, money is getting shorter and getting worse. Now, Noah has this idea of enlist as an agent."

"You don't want him to go into the security forces?"

"I don't want him to get hurt. That's it. These terrorists are getting worse and worse."

Rachel understood what was behind the sudden attack of concern of the matriarch and relaxed her body. She offered to help with the cleaning, but not before returning the call and book the private lesson that would give her a good money. The balance of the day was positive, even inspiring, but the tiredness took over the body. She just needed a shower and a bed.

...

Santana and Rachel met when they were 11. It was Senator Pierce, Brittany's father, who introduced them. Rachel became a button a year later. But the first ones that would become buttons that Rachel met were Matt and Kurt, well before Santana. Rachel's parents were in the Ruttherford coffee shop and Matt was always around. They were never exactly friends, but they were nice to each other. She met Kurt when she was nine when they studied singing with the same teacher, Mrs. Blanche, at a time when community leader Burt Hummel even dreamed of meeting Carole Hudson.

As for the others, they met at school. Rachel and Sam didn't talk, until the day he, on the football team, went to the Puckerman house to do a school work. But as Puck wasn't an academically interested person, the project partnership received a third person who had the concealed name: Rachel Berry. That's when Sam and Rachel became friends: doing English homework together, even if she had nothing to do with it.

Tina Chang, a good observer she was, said that Rachel and Sam had good chemistry, even thought Rachel never disguised the crush on Finn Hudson, in addition, she happened to act like Kurt Hummel's girlfriend. Sam Evans kind of liked Rachel, but he never allowed himself to see her more than a close friend. The point is that knowing the truth about Rachel's relationships made them both get closer.

At school, the first thing Sam did when she saw Rachel was a good morning hug, which she responded promptly, until she caught the suspicious looks of Finn and Puck. It was when she fell on herself: she was still someone's girlfriend and people could start talking. This made her break the embrace and push Sam deliberately.

"What's wrong?" Sam was confused.

"I'll talk to you later..." Rachel walked over to Kurt and kissed him with a little more enthusiasm than they used to play at school.

"Does this have to do with the hug you received from someone who is not your boyfriend?" Kurt smiled and Rachel frowned. "Mercedes called me twice yesterday to tell me a cryptic message that I should open my eyes to you. Apparently she saw you and Sam walking through the park together."

"Sorry about that..." Rachel said quietly as the two walked hand in hand through the hallway.

"What is a dating without some public crisis to entertain other people? And then..." She whispered into her friend's ear. "I think our relationship needs a hint of drama."

In the meantime, the cheerios pass by the false couple and Brittany winks at them both. Santana, further back, looks at Rachel and Kurt and then looks up at Sam and shakes her head. Rachel knew that, unlike Kurt, Santana hated say anything at school because she was against drawing attention from others to the buttons. That's why she hid as subaltern of Quinn Fabray, even though she knew she was a natural leader. A love triangle, even if false, wasn't something Santana would approve of.

Rachel and Kurt, on the other hand, seemed to amuse themselves with the possibility of playing a drama at school. But the smiles ceased when Quinn appeared in the hallway to her locker. The heavy makeup barely disguised the bruise on her face, and the scarf was a strange accessory for a hot day. Quinn, knowing that eyes rested on her, decided to control herself and act in that little school world. She picked up her books and passed her colleagues as if they didn't exist.

"Did you hear anything about Quinn?" Rachel discreetly asked Kurt.

"Santana didn't said a word about it, but I have other sources. Tina said, that Mercedes said, that a cheerio said, that Quinn has an affair with an older man with a very heavy hand."

"Oh my God!"

"I don't doubt anything in this world. I heard back home, that Finn will break up with her."

"Because?"

"Is that a question, Rach? The gossip circulates. My brother is not as naive as he appears."

"I know, it's just..." Rachel paused to see Quinn in the distance. "I'm really sorry for her. No one deserves to go through this."

"Go and comfort her then!" Kurt challenged.

"I'd even be willing to give Quinn a friendly word, but I'm afraid she wouldn't accept my gesture of friendship."

"Even more so if Finn broke up with her today."

"If the rumors are true, I think that's the least of her problems."

"Really? Well, time to go to class, my love."

Kurt lightly kissed his fake-girlfriend's face and went to watch his first class. Rachel's room was two doors down. But she stopped in the hallway for a moment. Finn was talking to Puck at the door of a classroom, Mercedes passed by the diva and called her into class with Artie, Mike, and Tina. The students were already settled in, and at last Quinn entered and sat in the back of the room. Rachel avoided looking at the girl, even if she tried, she knew Quinn would be ready to say any insult. Something that, unlike Santana's empty curses, would be said to try to actually hurt. Rachel had come to the conclusion that, whatever the reason, Quinn was just a sad girl who desperately needed help. But she didn't know how she could approach a person who apparently despised her. Rachel found, finally, that paying attention to class and not thinking about Quinn was the best deal. A pity, for Rachel herself, that in the course of the teacher's boring explanations, she couldn't help but look discreetly back to see if the fellow collegue was okay. Until then Rachel never really think about it, but maybe she cared about Quinn.


	8. Deliverers

"I didn't know we did that sort of thing." Sam frowned, especially as his fellow buttons began to smile.

"Do you really think you came into the buttons to do anything?" Matt sniffed. He was standing next to Santana in a clear stance that he had become her first.

"No, but... this wouldn't be a delivery service or something?" Sam looked once more at the five invitations he had at his hands.

"Sam..." Rachel slapped her friend's head lightly. "We are the deliverers! The shallower buttons on the system."

"So why isn't Brittany with us?"

"She confuses the addresses and is capable of getting lost in this city." Santana said plain and serious. "As always, the addresses have been distributed according to the proximity of each other's house. The scheme is the same: no mailboxes. The order is delivered by hand, preferably directly to the owner of the invitation. Any questions?" She looked at the commanders. Everyone, but Sam, seemed calm, since it wasn't their first time doing this job. Sam still seemed to have doubts, which was natural being his first time. Santana was experienced enough to notice these nuances in the boy's eyes, but she was counting on Rachel to help him. "Ok, people, let's go. And don't forget to send the message when you finish" She swung her cell phone.

The group gradually dispersed. Blaine and Kurt kissed quickly before they left to perform the task. Sam went to talk to Santana and came back with the extra helmet in hand, then handed it to Rachel.

"You're the only one standing."

"No need, Sam..."

"Don't be silly. We're going faster this way. Besides, Santana's order."

"In that case." She struggled not to smile at the kindness.

"Do we always have to make deliveries like these or more serious things?"

"Deliveries are commonplace. This should be just one more of those receptions for the big buttons of this city celebrate while conspiring with a glass of whiskey in their hands. Now when we have a more serious mission, everything is different."

"Like what, for example?"

"At that party? Remember that brief blackout?"

"I don't remember... I don't think I paid much attention or importance. What's it?"

"Well, this is a sign that we have done a good job. Anyway, you know that list Santana gave you about the brown shirts in our school?" Sam nodded. He was shocked when he learned that Puck was one of them. "She got this list when she invaded the house. Seban cut off the power and hacked the security cameras. Santana broke into the house with Blaine's support and the rest of us kept an eye on the party."

"Really?" Rachel nodded with conviction.

"And it was that time we needed to rescue one of our own and we invaded a captivity with bullets to the teeth." This time, Sam widened his eyes and Rachel burst out laughing with puzzled expression.

"You are lying!"

"But the rescue mission existed. Kinda…" Rachel smiled. "Kurt and Blaine went out on a weekend to date in peace in Mr. Anderson's cabin. Only his father came by and Blaine said he'd be with his girlfriend. Kurt had to stay hidden while Santana and Matt rushed there. Blaine did his best to wrap up his father until Santana appeared all smiling, posing as a girlfriend while Matt took Kurt out of there. It must have been hilarious because Matt laughs every time he remembers that story. Since then, Santana needs to go to the Anderson's house from time to time to be Blaine's beard."

"That was a good one, but I can't imagine you living with that kind of danger."

"It's not that bad either. Believe me. If those invitations had anything danger, they would be delivered differently. No one works at something they couldn't do."

Rachel put on her helmet and slapped her colleague's shoulder lightly. She would carry the backpack with the invitations and he would drive. When they stopped at the first house, Rachel made sure that Sam went to the door to deliver the invitation. The one who answered wasn't a very nice woman. She identified herself as the sister of the invitee and collected the letter. This made Sam anxious, afraid the girl wouldn't keep the word and not give the invitation to her brother. Rachel tried to reassure Sam. It wasn't a rule, but in general the families were ignorant of the subversive activities of the Buttons. Many of them lived alone. The Pierces, in which three of the four members belonged to society, was an exception. So Rachel advised his friend to relax. It was an invitation of a mere social event, a party, that probably all the guests had already been communicated about it.

Sam and Rachel decided to switch between deliveries on the way to the door. They were finding it fun to help with each other. Sam began to make small funny remarks about people or some different detail that he saw inside the house. Rachel, competitive as she was, began to make theories.

"I swear that boy frequents the store where Kurt sells his older clothes. That brown plaid coat with a plain fabric collar was an exclusive piece that belonged to Kurt's wardrobe, of which I'm sure." Rachel gestured as if she had said something extraordinary.

"And you by chance know Kurt's wardrobe?"

"Are you kidding? When we started our fake dating, he called me to go to his house and spent two hours trying to convince me to change my style. But instead of showing how to dress better, he preferred to tell me how my clothes didn't match his."

"They don't really match. Even I realized that." Sam laughed before pushing the helmet down. Rachel didn't like the insinuation. She didn't dress better because she couldn't. The clothes in the department stores were cheaper and that's what she could get. The best clothes she had were the ones Kurt had given her.

Two invitations were still to be delivered when they entered the neighbourhood where Rachel lived. That's when a patrol closed the moped and forced them to brake. The two teenagers' hearts flashed, but Rachel tried to keep her cool. She had experienced worse things after all.

"What are you delivering? Agent One spat the question.

"It's just invitations, sir!" Rachel said quietly, cautiously, and tried to pull the pack off her back in slow movements.

"No drugs?" Officer Two tore the backpack from Rachel. He jerked his zipper open and tossed the contents to the floor.

"Is this really necessary? We aren't getting or selling drugs. It's just invitations." Sam took a warning slap in Agent Two's face, which at that point seemed to be the most affected.

"Be quiet there, brother. You two move away." Agent One said.

Rachel and Sam walked three paces away as they watched in perplexity as agents scoured the contents of their packbacks and helmets. Agent Two opened one of the invitations, read it, found nothing interesting. It said there it was only a charity dinner to celebrate an anniversary.

"This Mr. Morris couldn't deliver invitations in the mail as normal people do?" Agent Two scorned to see that there was nothing compromising or subversive in the backpack. Just normal teenage boy stuff. In case, Sam's things.

"It's more elegant to hand in and we're getting some money from the service" Rachel tried to explain without shaking her voice.

"Is it just the little bitch who has a tongue?" Agent Two barked.

"Look how you talk about her!" Sam reacted the next second and made the mistake of advancing two steps. Agent Two didn't hesitate to take out the club and slam the object into the mouth of the boy's stomach, which bent at once.

Agent Two lifted his arm to hit Sam's already beaten back and the impact was painful. One, two, three times he hit the teenager. Rachel was paralyzed by gratuitous violence. She had tears in her eyes and felt bad for not reacting to seeing his friend beaten. When Agent Two hit a fourth time, Agent One, who had a way of being more thoughtful, despite spitting words, stopped him.

"The kids are clean. They're just getting a little honest money... and the kid already got the message," he said calmly.

Agent Two nodded and stepped back.

"You should cut your hair and be a man. And you're a pretty little bitch." Agent Two pointed at Rachel. "You should talk to me someday."

He stepped on the papers scattered on the floor and kicked her bag before entering the car as if nothing had happened. Only then Rachel run to Sam. He vomited and tried to stretch his back slowly. He tried to suppress the cries of pain. His skin and flesh were burning.

"I'm fine..." Sam said breathlessly. "Just give me three seconds, okay?"

Rachel helped him sit on the grass. In the meantime, a black man, one of the invitees, approached the teenagers.

"These guys are getting more and more paranoids and violent. Lords of God." He began to collect the scattered things. "This has to stop!" His tone was angry and resentful. "How are you?"

"I'll survive." Sam was still panting. The man handed the papers to Rachel and knelt down to analyze Sam's blows. "Try shuffling." Sam obeyed, even though it had hurt a lot. "Great..." The man linked his now patient's arm.

"Are you a doctor?" Rachel stared at him, then lowered her face as the young man did the same.

"We have to learn a little bit of everything in this life. Unfortunately I know what it's like to get hit like that on the back." He continued to flex Sam's arm and shoulder. "I don't think it's broken, kid. You guys come over to my house and I give you some analgesic spray to help."

Rachel nodded. She put the papers in the backpack and placed it on her back. Then she put a helmet on each side of the handlebars as the man helped Sam up and walk. The man's house was at the beginning of the street which surprised Sam.

"Are you, by chance, George Peterson?" Sam asked.

"I am, young man. I'm a buttom just like you."

The house was typical of someone of the middle class, kind of small, with flowery, well-tended garden, painted walls. The warm impression on the outside was repeated inside. George helped Sam sit on the couch and Rachel stayed with his friend all the time.

"That troglodyte had a point." Rachel forced a smile.

"In what?" Sam asked

"You need a haircut."

"I like it big!"

"Still you can have big hair with a nice cut." Sam ran his hand gently over Rachel's face and she blushed. It was George's time to enter the room with ice and the spray in his hands.

"I'm afraid this is my fault, boys." He shook his head. "I've been facing little incidents since I argued with a prosecutor and got the best." He sat down on the wooden tea table, standing in front of Sam. "Pick up the shirt, kid," he ordered and Rachel helped her friend. The medicine was applied and the ice brought a brief sense of relief to Sam. "You can have the spray if you want. Apply again after bath. Then, straight under the covers."

The two teenagers waved in understanding.

"Thank you Mr. Peterson." Rachel made an effort to remember his name. She had seen the man once at Pierce's house the night she sang.

"Call me George. And you're Rachel Berry, right? The girl with the golden voice!"

"This is Samuel Evans." She introduced her friend.

"Nice to meet you." Sam held out his right hand, but he gave up halfway. He was very sore.

"The pleasure is all mine, boy. Welcome to the Buttons."

"How do you know I'm new?"

"Because no one is invited in this city without my knowledge. You were recruited by Lopez, right?" They both nodded. "She is a girl without much tact, but with a good judgment of character, despite being so young. If she chose you, it's because you deserve to be with us. "

"Thank you." Sam forced a smile.

"Do you guys have tea? Water? Are you hungry?"

"You've done enough for us." Rachel smiled weakly. She was really grateful.

"We're on the same team! We need to help ourselves at these and at various other times or we will lose this war."

"This regime is ticking." Rachel said angrily.

"I don't want to be devil's advocate, Rachel, but the regime isn't solely responsible for the violence of its agents. It helps, of course, because the state doesn't punish these guys. In this case, it is the individual decision to play a brute idiot who wins respect for the blow. And it exists anywhere. In democracies and dictatorships. Just give them a little power in their hands. They could have approached you, asked some questions and search and release you. Simple like that. The agents decided to hit you simply because they could. Because violence is part of their persona, not that this is necessarily a recommendation. Now if you want to talk about gag laws, human rights violations and decisions that only hurt the people and the country, as we are suffering in fact, well, that's another story. Then I can end this government with an inflammatory speech."

"Too bad that inflammatory speeches don't overturn governments." Sam lamented.

"Don't overturn directly. There are those who think that things can only happen by force. Fighting violence with more violence. I don't believe in it! I believe in articulate intelligent words, articulate intelligent actions and education are a good recipe for change. It may not be so fast, but it's less traumatic. I understand that when certain groups are in a hurry, they appeal to force. But I'm patient."

"Are there wings between the Buttons?" Rachel was interested.

"There will always be many wings within the same group, Rachel. And each one gains more or less strength as the situation progresses. Right now, I can tell you that there is an interesting and beneficial balance for the Buttons themselves." George smiled and looked at his watch. It was almost eight p.m. "Whose is the moped?"

"Mine," Sam replied.

"Do you live close to each other?"

"Five blocks apart." It was Rachel's turn to respond.

"OK. Let's do this: Rachel goes home with the moped... you know how to drive one, right?"

"Yes… kinda…"

"Can you drive it or not?"

"Yes, I can."

"So you take the moped to your foster home. I take Sam home. Tomorrow you can give him a ride to school, right? So? What do you think of the plan?"

"It can be done," Sam agreed promptly.

"Agreed."

George took the keys from his car and helped Rachel to lift Sam. George asked Sam to practice some "normal" steps so as not to worry his parents and gave some more advice. George seemed to have long experience with similar situations and didn't hide anything from them. Before leaving with the moped, Rachel frowned and said in a crooked voice for the men to hear.

"How do you know that I'm in a foster home and not with my parents?"

"Because I met Hiram and Leroy, and I know your story." George replied simply.

Rachel nodded and started the moped. The ride was short, only three blocks away, yet the girl drove tense at the lack of experience with the vehicle and everything that happened at the last minute. She knew that the incident was a fatality, which was occasioned by an isolated fact, but it wasn't enough to stop feeling anger from the government, from the need for buttons, from every situation in her life. It was in those moments that Rachel felt like staying and kicking some asses. She longed only to see the frown on Puck's face when he realized that she had come home with Sam's moped.

"By chance you broke up with your boyfriend?" Rachel hated her tone of irony.

"Why are you asking?"

"You're driving Sam's moped. Sign that you were with him."

"Since when do you care?"

"I care about you. Kurt may be kind of foppish, but he's not bad and he's Hudson's brother. I have doubts about Sam. He has very liberal ideas, Rach."

"Sam is a great friend of mine and yours. He is a good person and this thing should be up. And since when do you care whether or not someone has liberal ideas? You never gave a damn about politics before."

"People grow up and start to see that there are things above them."

"Still, having different ideas shouldn't be a reason to dislike a friend. If you'll excuse me..."

Rachel passed Puck and down the stairs to her comfortable basement. She sent a message to Santana and typed "failed." The answer came the next minute with a very worried voice on the other side. Rachel didn't want to give details. She summed up the story and tried to reassure the leader. Rachel guaranteed to Santana that she would tell all the story next day. She hung up the phone and felt free to take a bath a little longer than usual. Rachel put on her pyjamas and lay down. Her stomach was hoarse with hunger. She didn't mind the hassle. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.


	9. Metal button

Santana was pissed, with her arms crossed as Rachel passed her in the hallway. From the leader's reaction, the singer soon realized that the problem wasn't with her. Instead, Santana nodded as if to pass on confidence and strength to Rachel. Then Santana looked pissed again as she put her eyes on Sam's robotic walk of who was in pain. She wasn't angry with Sam either, it's about the whole situation. Santana was angry because her friends were assaulted in a situation that shouldn't involve any danger. She was angry at the gratuitous violence of the world, angry that people were laughing and pointing at Rachel and Sam as if they were criminals.

"What is it, Evans? Was you hit by a bus?" Finn, who was nearby, asked.

"Something like that." Sam answered annoyed.

"What happened, man?" Finn insisted. "We have game this weekend and you appear so bursting? And why did Rachel come with you driving your moped? Are you dating now?"

Finn's expression was less of a concern for his teammate and more of jealousy. He had receiving all the attentions and affectionate looks of Rachel, even when she was at Kurt's side. Now it was as if he had been pushed aside and the sensation was more uncomfortable than he would have liked.

"I had an accident, okay? Rachel helped me. That's it."

"What accident?" He continued inquisitively.

"I fell off my bike."

A good questioner would identify the holes in the story and a certain lack of logic, but Puck and Finn were not exactly the type to investigate and spot lies between the lines. What they saw was a committed girl helping another guy who was not her boyfriend. It smelled of gossip, which was Tina's specialty. By the time of the break for lunch, everyone was convinced that there was a love triangle in progress within the school choir.

"Kurt, you need to open your eyes." Finn told his brother in the cafeteria.

"Rachel and Sam are just friends." Kurt said in a bored voice.

"No girlfriend will pick up another guy at home." Puck completed, pressing Kurt. He didn't want the best for his foster sister. He was only interested in taking the life of a colleague who had stopped caring because Sam didn't follow the brown shirts. "This guy wants to steal your girl and you're letting him. Grow some balls, Hummel."

Kurt saw an opportunity to act a little. He nodded to his friends and walked over to Rachel.

"We need to talk, now!"

Kurt took Rachel by the arm and pulled her into an empty room.

"Can you tell me what's going on?" Kurt said loudly.

"What?" Rachel was a bit confused.

"You and Sam."

"There's nothing between me and Sam. You know that."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I do!"

Then Kurt looked at the door and could see a few shadows passing by. He motioned for a still confused Rachel to understand his intentions. Then she waved and continued the play.

"And what were you doing with his disgusting moped?"

"Sam was hit by a car!" Rachel said loud enough that the extra ears behind the door could hear. "And the man ran away without help him. Another man helped us. He took Sam home and I got his moped."

"Oh!"

"Yeah, Kurt, oh!" Rachel stared at the shadows at the door once more. "And all this because you dismissed me after I let you cum in my mouth. I got pissed off and met Sam at Mocha. We talked and that was it. When he was leaving, he was hit by a car and he fell! That's the true story. I can't believe you listened all this school gossip."

"Oh, Rachel, I'm sorry..." Kurt wanted to laugh at the perfect performance. "Sorry, love... but you know I was having a bad day. You helped me a lot. No one sucks better than you, but I needed to be alone. Do you forgive me?"

"I don't know, Kurt..."

"I can go down on you today."

"Promise? It's been a while since you go down on me."

"I'll love to suck you clit again."

Outside the door were Tina, Mercedes, Puck, and surprisingly, Finn. The captain and quarterback could justify himself by saying that he was taking care of his brother. It wasn't true: he was jealous. He thought his brother had a better sex life (which Kurt actually had, but not with Rachel), and that pissed Finn. Who was Kurt? And Rachel? He didn't even like her for real, but he felt entitled to monopolize the girl's looks and smiles when no one was watching. At least that's what he thought. Finn didn't have a sexual life with Quinn and he thought was convinced it would be enough to snap his fingers to find another girlfriend. He thought girls like Rachel would break up with their boyfriends for him. It didn't happen and he saw Rachel and Sam getting closer. It irritated him deeply.

"They are kissing. I think they made up..." Tina whispered and was surprised when the door opened suddenly revealing Rachel holding hands with Kurt.

If Kurt wanted to be an actor, the psychological stage set up at that school was such an experiment. The improvised staged dialogue seems to have softened the gossip a bit, which made the atmosphere in the rehearsals of the glee club less hostile.

After glee club, some of the buttons received a message from the leader for a meeting. What Rachel was surprised about was the location: the pizzeria. She arrived at the place with Sam and Kurt, who didn't understand why Santana would call for a conversation in a dusty, deserted warehouse behind pizzeria. Rachel had a vague idea of the leader's intentions.

"What I like the most about you guys are punctuality." The trio was surprised by the leader, who came in unexpectedly.

"What are we doing here?" Kurt asked.

"I want to show you a place. A button place. You two gain the rights to know about. Hummel, you come with me and Evans goes with Rachel."

"What?" They both didn't understand.

That was when Santana pulled Kurt and forced him through a fake door into the warehouse behind the pizzeria. She took the metal button and inserted it into the panel, then typing the password.

"Santana, what..." Kurt was speechless when he realized it was an elevator.

"I always say that on the buttons it takes merit. I think you and Sam have enough to see our bat-cave."

When the disguised elevator reached its destination, Kurt marvelled at the room before him.

"Welcome to the Common Room of the Buttons." Santana said, still serious.

Two minutes later, it was Rachel and Sam who came to the scene and the reaction of the blonde and injured boy was similar to Kurt's. Rachel just watched.

"You can't have access most of the books here in any public library in the country. Most of the books here are banned. This one, for example, Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison, is a banned book you can find only here. There's also a collection of records, movies, magazines, even gay and lesbian porn you can find here..." Pornography wasn't banned in the country as long as it was heterosexual. The population couldn't see LGBT pornography of any kind. Santana explained the place as the boys watched in fascination with the collection. "Only me, Rachel and Matt have free access to this place. It's a question of hierarchy and security. Seban and Blaine have already visited here. And now you two can come here with any button member."

"Now I understand that free-thinking philosophy of the buttons." Sam took a copy of Charles Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities, a book he had only heard of and was banned from one of the latest government-issued listings. "Can we take these books home?"

"You can have the digital version." Santana explained. "Just get a pen drive and take it to the guys over there." Santana pointed to the room where were the technician on duty and the hacker responsible for keeping the Buttons' digital environment free from government interference. "They will check if everything is clean and copy a book file or a music, even a movie. You will receive an encrypted file and a password. But you can read the actual books, you can flip through, you can sit at that desk and study a bunch of them as if to make a thesis. They just don't leave here for security reasons."

"That's amazing, Santana!" Kurt's eyes gleamed.

That library had books of philosophy, sociology, political essays, religions, various literary works, biographies, and also many art books. One of them was a catalogue with erotic homosexual works of an artist of the beginning of the century who has long been banned.

"It's like seeing a gay men's magazine!" Kurt smiled as he showed Rachel a painting.

"Lower your mast, Kurt!" Santana warned. "You don't have free access to it here. There's plenty of ground for you to get a metal button. But you can visit from time to time. Now that everyone knows our bat-cave, I can even hold meetings here."

"What about Brittany?" Kurt asked.

"You know she's a special case."

"I love this place!" Sam took a songbook from a great guitar player and then put the record to play. He smiled broadly as the soft sound came into his ears.

"About that incident at school today..." Santana called the group to chat on the set of sofas. "I really liked the solution you gave yourself. The theatre was great. But guys, let's be careful. I don't want Puck and his gang to imply us for some stupid reason. The Buttons guarantee legal support to any member, even a shallow button, but gang fighting is another story and they are brown shirts. I talked to Puck today: that's basically what he wants: to find someone to fight. And Sam is a target." She turned to the commander. "You know you'll have our support, but be careful, mate."

"I'm not going to bow my head to these guys, Santana. They were my friends, but I can't just put my ass between their legs and accept just because they want to fight out of nowhere. Otherwise, what's the point of all this?"

"It's not just about the Buttons, Sam. It's about you! We protect each other, but we also need to be a bit more rational. If they hit one of us, well, we aren't Jesus Christ to turn the other cheek. But until we get to that point, we will avoid the fight because we have more important things to do. Is that understood?"

"But Santana..."

"Is that understood?" Santana repeated with more authority in her voice. It was so intimidating when it did that the young man could do nothing but agree.

Santana still had business to do. While Sam, Kurt, and Rachel took advantage of those facilities, she went to the operating room to settle disputes.

"I confess this is a lot bigger than I imagined." Sam approached Rachel, who picked up a record to listen. She stared at her friend knowing exactly what he meant. Every button went through that.

…

The next day, at school, the gossip was different. Instead of betrayal, some students speculated that there is a threesome going on involving Rachel, Kurt and Sam. How these theories emerged was a mystery, but it was a clear display of how adolescent imaginations could be fertile. Santana and all the buttons in that circle were amused by the gossip, except Rachel, who was being called by names she didn't appreciate. Slut was just one of the nicest.

To stay away from the hustle and bustle, she chose to spend the first free time in the library. In the small interval between classes, she went to her locker to select the material for the next classes without talk with anybody. Suddenly she became the school's slut who gives blow jobs on her boyfriend anywhere with all the refinements of vulgarity possible. As if many of the girls didn't do the same or worse. And the great irony of it all was that Rachel was still technically a virgin at the age of seventeen. She only had had sex with herself.

She tried to think of other things, in classes for example. Mercedes's locker was next to hers, but her colleague didn't talk to her, because was a judgemental prude. Rachel realized that most of the members of the glee club also began to look at her differently. It was as if she had come back in the freshman year of high school when she was despised by almost everyone. Every story had heroes and villains. In the eyes of her friends, she was the villain of the moment. Antagonists were solitary beings. And so leaders and anti-heroes.

At lunchtime, she was surprised when Santana sat down besides Rachel and began to eat her meal in silence. Brittany sat down in front of them.

"What are you doing?" Rachel whispered.

"Lunch, Berry," Santana replied dryly.

"Yeah, but why are you here? You say we shouldn't…"

"Do you have a problem with that?"

Rachel was silenced and saw that many of the students were commenting. Santana and Brittany were still there, eating and occasionally saying something as if nothing had happened. Soon after, Kurt and Sam sat at the table and so all the buttons of that school were together in public for the first time.

"Guys, I appreciate it, but people will talk even more."

"Let them talk." Santana seemed to ignore the stares.

"I wouldn't eat this if I were you." Brittany made a face of disgust because the secret girlfriend tried the Chinese food.

"Why not?" Santana asked

"I heard it's cat meat."

"What? Just because it's Chinese food? That's racism, Britt."

"Some of them have cannibal habits!" Brittany protested and Rachel caught the laugh. "Let them eat fried crickets... I've eaten some myself. It's kind of good, actually. But cats and dogs? Sadistic cannibals!" Rachel raised an eyebrow. Did Brittany know what sadism meant?

"You? With her?" The group was surprised by Quinn Fabray. "You must have been very close friends since you defended her that day in the bathroom."

"Fabray!" Santana pretended that the juice box was more interesting and took another sip of the grape nectar, then said in a low command voice. "The table is for six and there is a vacant place. If you want to sit with us and talk like a person, you're welcome. But if you're here just to pissed us off, get out."

Quinn strangely seemed to obey Santana. In silence, she sat down with other cheerios she hated. It wasn't just Quinn who looked toward the table as if the most bizarre fact in the world had happened at that moment in the cafeteria. Santana Lopez and Rachel Berry sitting together without arguments and insults? That's new.

"Did I miss something?" Sam asked.

"What bathroom scene?" Kurt added.

"Quinn was stuck weeks ago and Rachel had the misfortune to show up. That's all." Santana explained.

"That was nothing. Worse is this experiment of collective astonishment." Rachel said with a little acidity. She wasn't used to that kind of attention. The looks of admiration on the stage, yes. Those of strangeness: not at all.

"Who knew we were popular?" Sam began to amuse himself with attention.

"I've always been popular!" Santana continued to look blasé.

"Is it true then?" Tina sat excitedly with the group. "That you are together in a threesome relationship?"

"My sex life is none of your business" Rachel snarled.

"Rachel and I are just friends." Sam completed a little quieter.

"Impressive! You already compete for the gossipy press prize of the year but you're not satisfied. The future of the journalism is indeed in good hands." Santana mocked.

"I'm not here because of the newspaper gossip. Rachel, Sam end Kurt are my friends." Tina was indignant. "You are the stranger here."

"If you really are friends with them, then show a little respect. Sit down, be quiet and do not judge." Brittany raged to the surprise of everyone. Santana started clapping and Sam reached for a high five with his fellow button.

"I'm not judging," Tina defended herself. "It was Quinn who spread this story."

"Ah... why I'm not surprised?" Rachel mocked in a dramatic way, causing some laughter from the others.

"Quinn definitely has a problem with you, Rach." Sam made the remark.

"No... Quinn has a problem with herself," Santana said. She knew a lot more about Quinn and what was going on in her life, but she didn't want to and couldn't comment on the other buttons. At least, not at that moment. "Let it go."

The day passed without any more significant events, which wasn't bad in Rachel's notebook and not even in the other buttons. Santana and Rachel did their weekly training that day and Rachel began to help the leader in the recreation of the kids in the gym. It was a fun part of the day. Kurt and Blaine met at their usual place to date, Brittany spent the afternoon dancing in the large basement with headphones, singing happily. There were others who studied at another school, such as Matt and Seban, who learned about their friends and they felt proud. And there was Sam.

His body was still sore. But unlike the humiliation he would normally feel, he was holding his head up, sure that he was playing on the good guys team. No matter how small his participation, it was still an important task in the process of the great picture. There was also something different inside his chest: a feeling he hadn't realized in himself until then. He waited until dawn to leave the house with a few cans of spray paint. He walked to the wall near the school and decided to do the art.

…

When the day dawned, the audience and the students passing by could appreciate the "art" made in the wall near the school. Only those who were blind or couldn't read couldn't appreciate the message written between simple drawings made by those in a hurry.

"FREEDOM IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN BREAD. FIGHT THE POWER."

While the agents were called to extinguish such vandalism as people passed by the wall, as if suddenly the building had gained teeth, a girl was reading the message with particular interest.

Quinn Fabray stood there in front of the wall for a few minutes. She pressed a small object in her right hand: a blue button.


	10. Lopez home

It's athletics training day, so Rachel had to get up earlier. She was already accustomed with the routine: waking up an hour earlier than normal, putting on her training uniform, changing clothes in her backpack, and go to school. Athletics was far from as enthralling as the music, but Rachel had to admit that her body began to ask for training after she got used to it. Not to mention that her abs started to show, which she liked a lot. Perhaps it was the endorphin produced and released by the body that helps in the sense of well-being. Upon arriving at the school, she entered the locker room just to leave her belongings.

Athletes from other teams and cheerleaders were also there sharing the space, but the interesting thing was that the members of a team didn't usually talk to the girls of other teams. Rachel was more sociable with the girls in athletics, especially Doris Mallick, who was the other girl in the pole vault and who used to be the starter in school competitions. The fact was that Doris liked Rachel because she was younger and knew that Rachel had no chance of overcoming her. Rachel, for her part, was more than happy to compete as number two at the school. The only competition Rachel made a point of winning was in the choir.

"It's freezing outside." Santana came into the locker room complaining when Rachel was about to leave.

"It's fall, Santana. It's not that cold yet." Rachel replied.

"Now you're a walking calendar, dwarf?"

Rachel sighed. She turned her back and left the locker room. Even before she could reach the field, she felt a hand gripping her arm. Santana pulled her into a more reserved space, looking first at the environment to make sure there was no one approaching.

"Something wrong?" Rachel was worried.

"It will depend on how you are going to face this favour."

"Depends on the kind of favour."

"It's an order... and at the same time it's a favour." Santana looked around again to make sure they were alone. "I'm going to need to drop out at lunch break and I won't be back until Sunday. These are orders that I must fulfil."

"Something serious, if I may ask?"

"Not that serious... the point is I need you to do me a great favour while I'm gone: I need you to take Quinn to my house and keep an eye on her. You can host her in my brother's room, no problem. My parents will be home and they don't know her personally, so I also need you to make the introductions."

"Quinn? Quinn Fabray?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure? Don't you mean Quinn Montgomery?

"Who's Quinn Montgomery?"

"Mocha's barista."

"Oh really? Is that hot girl named Quinn, too?"

"Santana!" Rachel blushed and the leader smiled.

"Rachel, the mission is Quinn Fabray, okay?"

"I'll know what's going on?" Rachel folded her arms. "At least as far as Quinn is concerned?"

"Whatever you want to ask is going to have to be directly to her. That's if Quinn wants to have some decent dialogue with you."

"Come on, Santana! Be reasonable."

"I'm reasonable."

"That task won't be easy. Quinn hates me!" Rachel sighed already waiting for the kicking festival she would receive. That was when she had a devilish idea and smiled. "I know this is an order, but you also said it's a favour. Well, for the favour part can I make a request?" So she made a square in the air with her fingers. Then, with one hand, she simulated something resembling a curved roof. Santana rolled her eyes.

"Done! But don't abuse it. "

Rachel smiled in the best of ways.

"OK! Tell Quinn Fabray, I'll wait for her after Glee."

Santana rolled her eyes once more and Rachel was definitely on the training ground. In the distance, she saw Santana approach Quinn Fabray and talk about something. Whatever it was, it seemed serious. Her curiosity cost her concentration to execute the techniques the coach taught. When Rachel watched the sport casually at the Olympics, she never imagined it was so complicated.

After the practice, as she walked through the hallways, Rachel felt that the looks on her were more accusing since the joke with Kurt about her supposed sexual life. She found the hypocrisy of her colleagues interesting. She came to be seen as a slut because she supposedly experimented with her boyfriend. It didn't matter if a good chunk of the girls in the school were sexually active and had few inhibitions. Kurt came to be seen as a weak and an idiot, because he supposedly agreed to share his girlfriend with Sam. It didn't matter if so many secretly cheated there. And Sam came to be seen as a pure and simple profiteer. But what about a guy like Puck? He was the ultimate manwhore. And Finn? Suddenly he was the man because he broke up with the slut rich Quinn Fabray. That school was stupidly sexist and false moralist.

Who was afraid of Quinn Fabray?

Rachel wasn't. Now she had to face the girl as a mission. Honestly, Rachel liked none of it.

Who could trust Quinn Fabray?

…

Quinn was impatient. Rachel hadn't been able to set a radio station she liked for a while, and the jolt of sound made her nervous. The anxiety to solve her private dramas was enormous, as was her need to feel secure. Then there was the captain of the Glee Club, the bossy girl who couldn't decide for a simple and ridiculous song. Quinn wanted to scream, to put out all the fury she felt inside her.

"Would you please choose a song? Any of them! I don't care."

She felt Rachel's eyes on her. Not every makeup could hide the swelling and purple around her eyes. Rachel wanted to ask about it, but the mixture of politeness and fear prevented her. Lucky for Quinn, who wasn't in the mood for explanations. She just wanted a bed and some rest after the scenes she faced the night before. Peace and silence were her greatest desires.

"Don't you have any MP3s? I'm sure your bad selection would still be better than the poverty of these radios." Rachel said.

"I don't see anything wrong with the radio stations!" Quinn wanted to scream. "I don't carry MP3 shit inside the car."

"I don't think you ever listened to the radio, so... turn the next right..." Rachel tuned into the new ballad of the moment. "Too bad I forgot my MP3s at home. I hardly go out without them." Quinn wasn't interested at all. At least she was relieved by the tuned radio.

For the rest of the way, Rachel only opened her mouth to indicate directions until she reached a residential street of modest homes in the working-class neighbourhood. That particular street was known to reside several immigrant families, as were the Lopez's. Most of them were in the second or third generation, but they still managed to preserve language and customs.

"It's the two-story blue house." Rachel pointed.

The Lopez house was very different from the Puckerman's one. It was more colourful, with the room full of ornaments and little things. There were also larger fences and a small garden, as well as a cherry tree in front of the house. In the Lopez house, for example, the green area was limited to a sparse lawn. For Quinn, however, it was like she was in another world, another country. She was a girl from the noble sector of the city, the daughter of a well-known politician who only studied in a public school because it was a practice for parliamentarians to enrol their children in these institutions to give the impression that the education system was of good quality. This wasn't true because students like Quinn, Karofsky and Brittany had private classes and were treated differently. These students, kids of politicians or people with influence, were on the honour roll and had a university degree seat: a privilege that ordinary students like Rachel would have to try twice as much, perhaps triple, to achieve.

"You better wait here for me here as I open the gate." Rachel got out of the car and ran through the drizzling rain.

Quinn was impressed by that girl knowing secrets of the house, for example: where was the extra key. Rachel jumped over the fence skilfully (she'd done it a few times), walked around the house, and took the copy of the key from an old pot of laundry soap in the backyard locker in which the Lopez set up the laundry once that those houses in the neighbourhood had no basement. She unlocked the kitchen door, took the bundle of keys. She wasn't sure which was the one that opened the lock of the gate that gave access to the yard. She tried four before finding the prize. Rachel took the chain, opened the gate, and allowed Quinn to drive into the laundry room, which also served as a garage. She locked up again before running back into the yard to get her own things. Her clothes and hair were well moistened at the moment. Quinn opened the trunk to carry her own luggage into the house.

"There are more clothes than you need to spend a weekend," Rachel commented, then regretted it. Quinn took a deep breath, looking like someone who was holding on desperately not to cry. Rachel held the keys in the right place and helped her colleague carry the suitcase upstairs.

"You should know that by now, but Santana is the youngest daughter of three." Rachel turned on the light before opening the dusty curtains of the cosy little room.

"I know almost nothing about her family. Santana was practically my bodyguard at school, but she never really revealed much about her life. All I know is that her parents don't have much money and that she lives in this neighbourhood. Well... obvious since we are here."

"Okay... this was Carlos's room, which is the oldest. He's married and lives in Adrian, if I'm not mistaken. He already has a son! But Santana's parents have preserved the room for when Carlos's family arrives for a visit."

"Who's the other brother?" Quinn sat on the bed and it didn't look too bad, despite the mattress being old.

"The middle one is Juliet. She's in college for the full scholarship program, which is very difficult to get a place through this resource... last year of Architecture, I guess." Rachel looked disdainful.

"Don't seem like you're a fan of her."

"If you think Santana is mean, near Juli, she's a novice apprentice."

"I can't imagine."

"Think about this: if you're staying in Carlos's old room with an extra ladder full of dust, when you could have a cleaner room, there's a good reason."

"I see..." Quinn noticed the room, the blue curtains, the dusty collection of model airplanes at the top of the shelf. In the small wardrobe that would not fit a third of her clothes. It was a typical boy's room. Her room couldn't even compare in size. But it was fine. She promised herself not to complain. No one can complain about cleaning the buoy when it's drowning, and Santana's gestures pretty much saved Quinn's life.

"Do you want a snack? I can prepare something to eat. I'm hungry myself."

"Okay." Quinn wasn't hungry. The snack was only a reason for Rachel to disappear and she could be alone to compose herself.

Rachel went to the small kitchen. She knows that house well enough to know where things were and to be free to catch them. She picked up the bread in the refrigerator, jellies (and Rachel secretly thanked Juan Lopez for the healthy addiction, since Anna rarely bought it), made pop lemonade and ate a banana while she was fixing the meal. Quinn arrived with her face still closed, a counterpoint to the light features of Rachel.

"I don't know what you like, but we have bread, jelly and cream cheese. I made pop lemonade... it was the most neutral juice I ever found in the freezer." Quinn shook her head and laughed in disbelief. "What's it?"

"Who would have thought that you, Rachel Berry, were Santana Lopez close friend? Sorry, but this is still hard to believe."

"There are many things you don't know." Rachel began to pour herself into silence.

Quinn rummaged in her pants pocket and placed a button on the counter in front of Rachel.

"Lost another sweater button?"

"No... this one is different." Rachel knew that button model with the scrape just fine. The colour was blue, but under the circumstances, that didn't surprise her. "Santana said you understood the meaning."

"And what do you know about it?" Rachel was cautious.

Quinn wasn't willing to go into an information game. She was mentally tired and didn't want to risk ruining the chance with the only person who held out her hands at the worst moment.

"I know it's an invitation. It wasn't clear, but I presume I must be in a sort of probation phase before Santana can tell me about some things. She assured me that I would never be helpless again... I must say it was more convincing than I could imagine."

"She is right."

"Are you close because of that?"

"You're right again." Rachel took a sip of the juice. "At least in part. Regardless of these buttons, Santana and the Lopez are like my family. More than the Puckerman's."

"Then why do you live with Puck's family?"

"Because it was the family the government sent me after I got under state custody when my parents were killed." Rachel avoided looking at Quinn at that moment. As much as she knew the girl had nothing to do with it, it didn't change the fact that Quinn's father was the author of the law that sentenced homosexual couples to death.

"Since when does this happen? You, Santana... the Lopez's?" Rachel silenced and concentrated on her own snack. "Can't you tell me anything else?" Quinn gained more silence.

"Why are you here?" Rachel asked after a few minutes of discomfort. "I mean; I know San well enough to know she wouldn't put you in this house without a fair reason. Does it have something to do with your black eye?"

"I'd say you're right... at least in part."

"There are rumours in school that you have an affair with an older man."

"Well... tell me your theory and I'll tell you it's far or near of the truth." Quinn folded her arms.

"My theory is that your father is not a loving guy. Or maybe he's inappropriately loving." Rachel didn't want to face her colleague for this insinuation.

"Your theory isn't wrong... just as rumours always have a basis of truth."

"Oh!" Rachel was angry with the revelation. "So your father... touches you?"

"You can say that... he especially touches me with his heavy hand against my face."

"Did he… he…"

"Raped me? That's a thing I don't want to talk about."

Russell almost raped Quinn once. In an occasion of extreme drunkenness, Russell screamed at his daughter, slapped her, then pinned her against the wall and rubbed himself against her body and grasping her breasts. All Quinn felt was panic and terror. She felt Russell's hard penis brush against her body, hear her father call her the worst names. Quinn begged him not to. She screamed that she was his daughter over and over again. That's when Russell stepped back and left her room. That night, Quinn ran into the bathroom, locked herself in there and cried till sleep in the tub. She started to sleep with her bedroom door locked since then. That happened two nights before Quinn slapped Rachel at the locker room and Santana interfered. Russell was a politician in crisis, who was losing his power of influence more and more every year. That was his biggest excuse to drink and change, and Quinn almost paid the worst price.

"He doesn't have the right." Rachel was horrified.

"Are you surprised? He is the man who signed your parents' death sentence."

"Theorizing is one thing... knowing part of the truth is completely different. I'm so sorry, Quinn. I'm sorry!" Quinn wiped away discreet tears that stubbornly sprouted and ruined the sparse makeup, despite her firm, impassive face. Rachel, for her part, didn't know how to act. She didn't know if she could hug her, or simply stay there. Prudence advised Rachel to keep her distance. "Your father is the reason to you come here with that big luggage?"

"I refused to do my father a favour. So I got this black eye and walked away. I slept in my car last night and today Santana offered me a roof."

"Oh!" Rachel was stunned. "Did she give you this button today?"

"No. She invited me a week ago."

"I'm confused… when did she…"

"Remember that day in the lockers room a month ago? When I… I hit you?" Rachel nodded. "Santana got into my car, threw the reality into my face and promised to help me."

"Throw reality in the face of others? That's her specialty... fortunately, helping is also part of the package."

"I'm grateful she did it. I was so hopeless that day… She promised that I wouldn't have to do favours to my father anymore but that had a price. She tested me a few times and I think I passed. A week ago, Santana showed me a document and this blue button and give a choice. I took it."

"A document?"

"Copies of some documents that make sure my father won't bother me." Quinn frowned. "By the way, do you have any idea how Santana got it?"

"Santana has a lot of business that doesn't concern me."

"Well... what I know is that it worked. My father stepped back and said that he would leave me alone. But not before he got me this black eye and a threat that if I open my mouth about the documents, I may consider myself a corpse with a right day to fall."

"Do you think he would be able to?"

"I won't pay to see. Santana gave me some solutions and I just pray to God that she's right."

Quinn and Rachel ate in the kitchen in silence. The biggest noise was outside. The neighbour was fighting with a child, probably her son who had done something wrong. Or maybe the kid didn't do anything at all and the woman would only be discounting her own frustrations. Quinn and Rachel washed and put away the dishes, and again they didn't know how to act between them. Rachel had an idea to improve the environment and called Quinn up the stairs. They entered Santana's room and the diva picked up a key that fitted behind a caricature.

"Apparently, you know where all the keys are." Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"This is the most desired key." Rachel smiled and went to a medium-sized chest that stood in the corner of the room beside the window. She opened it and her eyes lit up literally. "Santana has the best private collection of vinyl records I've ever seen. Only classics."

"It looks pretty good..." Quinn picked up The Supremes Sings Holland-Dozier-Holland, 1967 album. "I don't know any of these..." She commented softly. "Sounds like East thing."

"You're not wrong."

Quinn picked up the vinyl and went to the stereo. She didn't even believe Santana still had such a device in the room. She herself, with all the money, had not. Quinn was embarrassed to realize that she didn't know how the stereo worked. Rachel helped her.

"Which track?"

"Any of them."

She smiled as she listened to the guitar in the midst of the good squeak characteristic of that type of media. _"Set me free, why don't cha babe/ get out my life, why don't cha babe/ cause you don't really Love me/ you Just keep me hangin'on/ you don't really need me/ but you keep me hangin'on/ why do you keep a coming around/ playing with my heart?/ why don't you get out of my life/ and let me make a new start?/ let me get over you/ the way you've gotten over me_ ". Rachel smiled and offered her hand. She pulled Quinn up and they started dancing to the music. And several other Supremes, Jackson Five, Steve Wonder, The Four Tops songs. It was like an exorcism session. A release. Santana's room had sound insulation and this allowed the girls to listen to the music as loud as the volume could take. All the neighbour would hear would be a muffled sound, impossible to identify.

There, in the middle of the dance, it was as if something had clicked between them. Quinn allowed her to feel some joy in Rachel's company. It was just a spark of happiness, but Quinn had almost forgotten how much the feeling of allowing herself was so good. When she left her house, she felt the spark of hope. As she danced with Rachel, she felt the heat. Quinn felt a little peace and found it too good to be true to the point of fearing that it was all a dream.

Rachel, for her part, was in awe of her colleague. She had never seen a Quinn Fabray so vulnerable and so light. It was beautiful.

Covers and records began to spread over Santana's bed as the girls explored the collection, sang the songs (in Rachel's case) and danced. Exploring those treasures was the prize that Rachel asked Santana to escort Quinn. She'd only seen the collection once. Santana was very jealous of her vinyl records. The leader maintained with great care and hardly allowed people to look at a distance of at least two meters. Of course if they scratched or if the phonograph broke, Rachel could order her own coffin. This part became very clear during the recommendations before the location of the key was revealed.

"Rachel?" The girls, already tired and lying on the carpet, were startled by the thick voice of the tall man with the Latin features. He was a very handsome.

"Hi, Mr. Lopez." Rachel ran to lower the volume. Quinn put her hands back and lowered her head. "Sorry, we didn't hear you come... "

"Hum..." He walked into the room and began to see the records. "I don't know what you did or told Santana to let you explore her collection, but good Lord... now I can finally take a look at these records." The man smiled and turned to the blonde girl he already had sometimes seen photos of the local newspaper's social columns. "You must be Quinn Fabray." He reached out to greet her. "Santana said you'd spend a few days with us."

"Yes, sir!" Quinn greeted him. "That's... if you will, of course ..."

"Rachel, have you shown Carlos's room yet?"

"Yes, Mr. Lopez."

"That must be a terror of dust." He sat on the bed and picked up a Marvin Gaye record. "Jesus, I love this one! I like it so much that I would be caught happy just by holding it. Santana has a contact on the black exchange... she doesn't give me details, but that's where she gets those oddities."

"And are you ok with that?" Quinn was shocked.

"Not really. I worry and I don't encourage her. But it's better to know than to be taken by surprise. And it's just records..." Rachel nodded in agreement, even though Juan was deluding himself: he didn't know anything. He had no idea how enormous the buttons were. He didn't even know of the existence of this secret society. The man got up from the bed and composed himself. "When Maribel arrives, I'm sure she'll be happy to provide new sheets and clean blankets. It's just that San took us by surprise... and she still had this travel with her boyfriend. The prosecutor's son, right?" He asked for confirmation from Rachel, who nodded.

The prosecutor's son in question was Blaine, Santana's official beard and vice versa, since the day of Kurt's rescue.

"Rachel, are you going to sleep here too?"

"It's not in my plans, Mr. Lopez. My mission was to introduce Quinn to you and Maribel." Santana's mother hated be called mrs. Lopez.

"But do you have plans tonight?"

"Not exactly..."

"So stay. Let's order pizzas and play Monopoly. It wouldn't be the first time you'd borrow some San's pyjamas. "

"It would be nice." Rachel smiled and the man left the room. "Juan loves Monopoly and all kinds of board games." Rachel smiled uncomfortably. "You don't need to play if you don't want to..."

"I think it would be... interesting. Although I don't know how to play properly..."

"Come on?!"

"My father isn't the type to sit on the rug to play board games with his kids, Rachel." Quinn said with a lament in her voice. "I don't know if you noticed, but I don't have much friends either. Not real ones as you and Santana are, apparently."

"In this case, it would be healthy if you lived the experience despite your 18-year-old."

Maribel arrived. She was a tired and not so thrilled when she was introduced to Quinn, but she liked Rachel's company. She thought it was a rare good friendship that her daughter cultivated. The four of them ate pizza talking about routine matters. Juan hated the newscaster Maribel thought was very elegant. They showed an up-to-date picture of their grandson, Carlos' son, to the girls and told them about the little boy's exploits. Stories augmented by grandparents' charm. They asked questions about her daughter at school in the hope that Rachel or Quinn might hand over some malpractice. Rachel was more than trained not to get her tongue in her teeth and Quinn had nothing bad to say about Santana, other than the famous bitch attitude.

They played Monopoly, which Quinn liked. It was different to sit at the table with a friend and an adult where no one discuss without serious consequences. In that case, Juan's revenge for the fights was to make a tough negotiation that could lead the other to bankruptcy. Who would have thought a doctor in the public health system could be a tough negotiator? Maribel was the first to fail, followed by Rachel. They both left Quinn and Juan building empires and trying to bankrupt each other. They climbed onto the mezzanine and cleaned the bed for Quinn, then stood on the couch watching a movie. Maribel asked several questions about the new guest, as Santana had foreseen, and Rachel kept the script in saying that the girl was facing some problems, but that Santana could explain better later. Plus, she assured Maribel that Quinn posed no risk to the family. In those days of hardened government, Maribel's concern wasn't for nothing.

Early in the night, Rachel organized the albums in the trunk and was about to get ready to sleep in the leader's room when Quinn came in already bathed.

"Will you still be around tomorrow?"

"No, I won't. I'm leaving after breakfast. But don't worry. Maribel won't be mean to you, and Mr. Lopez apparently liked you. He's very respectful too, I can assure you. It's not the first time I spent a weekend here without Santana around. But if you want some advice, don't watch football with Mr. Lopez if he stay home tomorrow. Make an excuse and go do something else... stay with Maribel if you have to."

"He is a fanatic?"

"Yes, he is."

"Do you really spend a lot of time here, or am I wrong?"

"Yes and no. It's not that I spend a lot of time with the Lopez's, but they've known me for almost seven years."

"Does Puck know about your friendship with her?"

"No, he doesn't. It's not that Anna or he cared about where I am. As long as I don't bring problems into the house. Anna just wants to get the state allowance for giving me a roof. Puck only thinks about his own penis. Natalie is just a child."

"How come you and Santana just started talking to each other at school?"

"It's complicated to explain."

"Does it have to do with the buttons?"

"Yes and it's complicated."

"This is frustrating. Why can't you tell me anything consistent about the buttons?"

"Because as long as you don't have your own buttons, Quinn Fabray, you're not really one of us."


	11. Dating Sam

Quinn woke up from a nightmare. She didn't usually scream – or maybe she didn't, since no one woke her up in the middle of the night because of it. But she could tell that she was shaken considerably by the way the covers were twisted and sweat dampened her clothes. It took her a while to stand and realize that she was no longer in her own room or somewhere that wasn't hers with someone she didn't want to be. Quinn woke up in a place that wasn't her own, but which gave her a strange sense of security.

She tried to relax, held her breath, ran her hand through her sweat-damp hair. Quinn sit down in bed. It took her a little longer to regain her composure, and only then to rise.

"I need go the bathroom. Where is it? Downstairs…" Quinn fought.

She was at the mezzanine, Carlos's room, Santana's brother. The room had the lowest ceiling so much so that she could touch it by stretching her arms. Quinn found it odd to be a little smaller than the height of the door. Someone the size of Mr. Lopez, for example, would have to bow his head and bend over a little to get through that room. On the other hand, judging from privacy, Quinn could understand very well why a boy would choose that place.

The stairs were practically vertical to the second floor. The noises and voices around the house showed that the Lopez's were standing. Quinn found the bathroom empty. She did her morning routines, and then decided to move into Santana's room, where she knew Rachel had slept. She found her colleague already standing, rearranging the bed.

"Good morning." Rachel smiled. "Sleep well?"

"Like a rock." Quinn thought no one needed to know she had nightmares. "Do you always like this when you wake up?" She was impressed by the way Rachel stretched the sheets.

"Usually I fix my bed after breakfast. But this bed belongs to Santana Lopez! Do you need any more explanation?"

"Where do you sleep when Santana's here?"

"Carlos' room." Rachel continued her task of fixing the leader's bedroom to perfection. "Santana says Carlos's room is perfect for my size."

"Oh... you mean that offenses aren't just a facade?"

"It depends on how you look at them. Santana has a pejorative nickname for all of us except for one person. You'll almost certainly win one, and I can even imagine what it would be. "

"Really?" Quinn folded her arms. "What does she call me on my back?"

"Icehole is the most common."

"Icehole as ice and hole? Not asshole?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's not that bad. Who are the others?"

Rachel became serious and was silenced, causing Quinn to roll her eyes in the process.

"Will you continue without saying anything?"

"Do you already have your buttons?" Rachel snapped.

"Come on, Rachel! We're talking about fucking nicknames, not the ultimate project to dominate the world!"

"I won't say a word about it."

"Why are you so stiff?"

"If you will be one of us, you need to learn certain things like closing your mouth when it is necessary, and respecting the hierarchy. Actually, I'm higher than you."

"And Santana is the leader who doesn't respond to anyone."

"Santana respond to someone. We respond to her. If you want to belong to the group, Quinn, this needs to be clear. The last thing we need is a spoiled unprovoked rebel to bring us more trouble than we already have." Rachel hardened her speech and stance. She finished fixing Santana's bed and walked toward Quinn with the same determination as she did when she was about to receive a flood of offenses at school. "From what I understand, this is an opportunity you were desperate to have. Don't screw that. We can make a difference in your life in the same way that you can make a positive difference in someone's life."

"That part is clear, Rachel. I just don't understand all this rigor. The way you change posture when I ask something dumb. Santana is the same... even worse."

"Because you can only access the answers as you deserve. For now, you must want to join the group and accept the conditions. If you can't do that, just get out before things get complicated, or someone kick you in a very painful way. And as much as I like you, Quinn Fabray, I won't let you hurt my family!"

"Do You like me?"

Rachel was startled by the question and stepped back, as if struck, because she never stopped to think seriously about it. Did she like Quinn Fabray? In what sense? Rachel circled the room until she finally sat on the edge of Santana's bed, partly ruining her own work.

"Even if all our clashes in and out school, I never thought of you in anger or hatred way." Rachel said in a lower, almost contemplative voice. "Not to mention that you always remembered me to work at your house parties, which is good because the money helped."

"You're welcome!"

"I think I forgave you for the way you treated me because I always thought you had too much trouble at home. That's why you're so angry all the time."

"You weren't wrong!" Quinn allowed herself to giggle.

"You're not a bad person, Quinn. You may have all the problems of the world and have experienced horrible things, but just because you are here, in this house, under these conditions, and with a blue button, it shows that you deserve a chance. "

"You're even a cool girl, Rachel Berry. Who would say?"

It was Rachel's turn to allow herself a small smile and a slight blush on her face. Their conversation was interrupted when Maribel yelled at the girls, warning that breakfast was on the table. They both went downstairs and greeted the Lopez's. Breakfast at Lopez's house was simple. Quinn couldn't compare it to the variety of the daily banquet in the Fabray mansion. Santana's family had no money left, and that reflected the table.

"Do you like pancakes?" Maribel offered Quinn.

"Yes, I do."

"The cherry jelly is great. I did it myself." Maribel said proud.

"When the tree gets loaded, Maribel usually calls to see if I'm available to help pick the cherries. Of course I always am. Even more than my pay is a pot of this delicious homemade jelly!" Rachel said with a smile on her face.

"This is one of the last pots from that harvest, Rach" Maribel said. "This year, I'm going to make jellies to sell. Cherry, strawberry, blueberry..."

"Will you need help?" Rachel said as she poured herself some coffee to mix with the milk.

"I wouldn't dismiss my favourite helper."

Rachel smiled and Quinn was even more astonished to observe the family's interaction. There were no employees around, the table hadn't many options. Juan wasn't a virtual dad like Russell, who lived more in the office and only interacted with the family when he had some order to give. Maribel seems happy and light. She was so different then the plastically neat and always tense Judy Fabray. Everyone talked in the Lopez house, and it seemed exotically perfect to them, even knowing that perfection was something that didn't exist. The only healthy interaction that Quinn had at home was with sister, Frannie. But she had left to study in Texas and Frannie would hardly come back home judging by the tone of her latest messages.

After helping Maribel set the table from the breakfast, Rachel said good-bye to Quinn and the couple, promising to come back the next day. Quinn felt lost for a moment.

"Quinn?"

"Yes, Mrs. Lopez?"

"Please call me Maribel."

"Okay... Maribel."

"I'm going to free fair that happens every Saturday in the square. Would you like to go and help me? Of course if you want, you can stay here at home. Juan should leave soon for his shift in the hospital. But you can do whatever you want, of course."

"I'll help you. It will be a pleasure."

Quinn and Maribel were walking to the square, which really wasn't far. Maribel spoke trivialities, which Quinn found lovely. Who could say that Santana's mother was a nice and even funny person? Another detail that caught Quinn's attention was the very population that was passing by. For political reasons, children of parliamentarians studied in public schools. It was only in that environment that Quinn had contact with some socioeconomic diversity. Moreover, her life was the Fabray mansion, the rich neighbourhood, and social activities among her own.

Quinn was surprised at how lively and dynamic the city was, even on its poorer side. People greeted each other, there were street vendors, ragged but talented street artists, people talking absently. On the other hand, Quinn had never seen so much poverty so close. It was shocking to see so many beggars near the fair: people who lived in the streets, without access to a roof, let alone personal hygiene. These people lived literally in rubbish bins because they couldn't give the agents soft or approach the richer quarters: the order was to arrest them or even get rid of those people. All to preserve the clean look of the city. But there was some security for the homeless to circulate in poor neighbourhoods.

Quinn paid attention to a woman with a headscarf, thin, dirty, without her front teeth, and with a baby on her lap. She gave a whine to another child and then turned to those who passed for a coin. Quinn, in shock, approached the woman and gave her five bucks.

"God bless you, my daughter," the woman said, then turned to the child. "Hey, I told you to stay here!"

"Are they your children?" Quinn asked.

"Why do you want to know?" The beggar said with frightening aggression.

Quinn walked away, not understanding that the woman's aggression was a defense of those who had gotten used to being kicked in the streets. Following Maribel, Quinn saw with amazement the tumult of the free fair. For someone who barely went to a supermarket, the fair was almost a zoo. Sellers shouted their promotions, customers came up in narrow spaces, and they all carried their own bags on their shoulders, or pushed fair carts.

Maribel had the favourite stalls. The older woman bought fruit and vegetables with unique skill. In the process, she taught Quinn to always choose the best ones. The tomato needs to be red and firm, the leaves couldn't be wilted and dark, the oranges with the smoothest shells used no more succulents than those with coarser shells. Quinn also noticed that Maribel always made two packages: one larger, for home, and another smaller one with two or three units of fruit or vegetable that she bought.

The response to such a procedure wasn't delayed. Maribel separated all these smaller packages and passed in front of a very poor house near the square. An old woman answered, and Maribel was quick to greet her with a friendly hug. It was an old neighbour who had no one else in the world. Her husband died, one son was a political prisoner and the other one had crossed the border at the time of the regime's installation. If it weren't for Maribel and others friends, the old lady would have starved to death. Still, this lady had wisdom, pride, and dignity.

Quinn didn't know if Maribel had a schedule to take her to the fair. Do that as it may, walking in that part of town was important. Quinn even questioned politics: something she had never done before. Why did her father, who was a parliamentarian, do absolutely nothing to help those people? Why was the power game so much more important than a social transformation project? Why didn't even someone in a privileged situation, like Quinn, ever ask such questions? Lack of intellectual curiosity wasn't her problem: she was a great student. But the education she received didn't stimulate questioning. She and everyone else in that country were deprived of works and thoughts that were considered dangerous not necessarily to oppose what was preached by the government, but because they were capable of promoting reflection.

For the government, the only acceptable question was of a practical and technical nature. Philosophy was dangerous, sociology was dangerous, history is rewritten to meet interests. This was a country that despised social thinkers in favour of a herd of limited critical sense, indoctrinated with ecclesiastical strategy: in this way, the government's ideology began to have a religious meaning. Violence was the remedy for those who dared to think differently. And so a nation was built without political opinion, without motivation for action, with limited expression, fearful and conformed.

"Maribel, may I ask you something?" Quinn said shyly as she watched Maribel start fixing their lunch.

"Of course. What is it?"

"Juan is a doctor and you work for yourself. How do you still live in this neighbourhood?"

Maribel stared at the girl and sighed.

"Because it's where we have conditions to be and where we like to be. We don't have much, materially speaking, but we live very well: we have our own house, we pay our bills, we put food on the table and our children are well on their way. Our life is good, Quinn. We haven't much money left, but we are happy. Besides, if we were to live in a more expensive neighbourhood, our privations would be even greater. So what's the point?"

Quinn nodded and stayed there, keeping Maribel company. Shortly after lunch, after washed the dishes – something she had never done before – she sat in the living room and went to watch television just to keep Santana's mother company. Her mind was so full she couldn't really pay attention to the melodramatic little soap opera. Quinn looked out the window and saw a patrol pass by the front of the house. Her heart started racing. She had never been afraid of a patrol before: her daughter's identity as a parliamentarian was like a passport to do anything in town at any time, even in curfew zones.

Half an hour later, she saw another patrol pass by the house. Quinn's heart pounded. She thought it couldn't be a coincidence. Maybe agents had recognized her, or distrusted the expensive car parked in a neighbourhood like that. Even with the promise that she would wait for Santana to arrive on Sunday to decide what to do, she felt that her staying could bring danger to a lovely family.

She made the decision on impulse. Quinn said goodbye to Maribel. She thanked the older woman for her unparalleled hospitality and went away.

…

One last time at home. A quick shower. Rachel ran to get ready. She had agreed to go to the movies with the buttons. Sam would soon pass to pick her up and everything else would be in the mall. They wanted to get their first movie session, so they could eat something and enjoy themselves. She grabbed the only pair of jeans she had and one of her favourite blouses. It created a good contrast. Shoes? Few options. She wore the much-used black converse. She combed her hair, straightened her bangs, and breathed before the mirror. She was presentable.

"You're beautiful!" Rachel was surprised to see Natalie invade her room in the basement. "Are you going on a date?"

"I'm going to the movies with my friends." Rachel smiled at the little girl.

"Your boyfriend will be there?"

"Yes, Kurt will be there with more other friends, like Sam."

"Puck said Sam is not good company." Natalie folded her arms and frowned. "You shouldn't go out with him, Rach."

"Puck doesn't like Sam because they disagree about some things," she tried to explain carefully. "Just because your brother is no longer his friend, doesn't mean that Sam is a bad person."

Rachel caressed the little girl and turned back to the mirror. She fixed her makeup, took her purse, and checked her money. Good thing not to have deposited the earnings of the last private class. She smiled when she heard the horn. She took Natalie by hand, closed the door, went upstairs and said goodbye to Anna.

"I'll be back by the end of the afternoon." Rachel said to her foster mother, but Anna, as always, didn't seem to care.

Sam was waiting in front of the house. He would have knocked on the door and greetings Rachel's foster mom if there hadn't been any trouble with Puck. He still had bruises to remind him of the nature of the people he went through with the buttons. The purple in his back had not yet disappeared.

"You're beautiful!" Sam said sincerely. Rachel just smiled before climbing onto the moped.

The path to the city's only shopping mall was long from there, in the same neighbourhood the gym was, but it was where had more entertainment options concentrated in one place. They waited for the others, but no one else showed up. Blaine and Kurt sent messages that they were together. Matt had to help his father in the cafeteria. Brittany must have forgotten and it isn't that Seban had actually been warned. They were, therefore, just Rachel and Sam in the movies.

They chose to see the last alien movie. It was the production that was in evidence in every place for having been filmed in the country. The production team was attracted by the incredible tax benefits offered by the government to make a plot that was going on in the country without criticizing itself. It was one of the best forms of international propaganda that could be done in favour of the ill-fated country. Criticism of the plot of the film was positive. What the national press didn't show, and which the buttons were able to access, were the harsh words intended for production by accepting perks from an enclosed country controlled by a fascist parliamentary government.

Regardless of politics, Rachel and Sam just wanted some fun and the two were fans of the filmmaker responsible for executive production of the feature. Rachel wasn't an enthusiast of the alien theme. She was terrified of dark productions with violent monsters and used to have nightmares whenever she watched horror movies. Sam liked this kind of movies. If he had the financial conditions, he would have an enormous collection of DVDs and toys of the sort. Something like Rachel would like to do with musical movies. She remembered that her parents had a huge collection of musical DVDs, almost all imported. They watched in the room eating popcorn and drinking juice. Rachel would sing all the songs and even do the choreography. But nothing of it remained. The government took everything away. Musical, house, everything.

"What did you think?" Sam asked at the end of the movie.

"Not bad." Rachel frowned and began to speak as if she were some critic of a television show. "It's a charming, nostalgic setting for a suburban neighbourhood. It is obvious that the director wanted to do some homage to other films of the genre. This goes through clichés that are sometimes abbess. But I cannot deny that the production is very good and the rhythm makes the movie entertaining." Rachel burst out laughing when she saw that Sam was impressed.

"You should do the movie reviews of the school newspaper! Really! The texts that Jewfro writes are horrible."

"I can't believe you read Jewfro's texts!" Sam blushed.

"I read the newspaper, ok..." He admitted embarrassed. "It's so clueless that it's hilarious." Rachel laughed.

"To tell the truth, I read the gossips. Tina is very creative and I usually am the target of some notes. Especially last month. In fact, we were both targets. I bet our and Kurt's will stamp the headlines of the next edition."

"Are you have fun with that?"

"Either I start laughing at the nonsense or I promote a newspaper burning followed by a furious protest in the middle of the schoolyard. The gossips are harmless most of the time and at least I know our glee club is not so invisible."

"It seems that philosophy speaks badly, but talk about me..."

"I want to be an actress. I appreciate the drama. "

Sam shook his head. In the food court, each one chose a dish that served better. Rachel bought a salad. Sam, a hamburger combo.

"Hey you!" They were surprised by a half-angry Mercedes. "Are you really dating?"

"Hi to you too, Mercedes." Rachel said annoyed

"Sorry, Rachel, but..." She sat down next to Sam. "Kurt is one of my best friends and I just wanted to understand what's going on between you and Sam. Kurt doesn't want to talk, at the same time he doesn't seem to be so upset. People are talking badly about both of you..."

"What people? Puck?" Sam looked serious.

"Puck, Finn, Artie to begin with."

"God..." Rachel took a deep breath. "Kurt and I are still dating and Sam and I are friends. I swear, Mercedes, that's all to understand."

"So you two aren't fucking at Kurt's back?"

"No." They both responded at the same time.

"Are you sure?"

"I would break up with Kurt before start dating someone else." Rachel said offended.

"Good..." Mercedes stood up. "I'll leave you two alone. See you on Monday."

"This situation couldn't be more bizarre. You never cheated on anyone... " Sam shook his head.

"It's not what they think. I don't mind, anyway. It's part of being a button." Rachel smiled.

After lunch, Sam and Rachel intend to walk in one of the parks, but the rain forced a change of plans. Sam introduced Rachel to the arcade and some of the classic games. She had fun playing pinball, trying to hit balls in the basket, and in other interactive games she only played to win a lot of chips and trade them for silly things, like a pink rubber with a smell of chewing gum. They also missed the time with good conversation.

When they realized it, it was past seven and Rachel was tired. They decided it was time to go home. Sam had the gentleness in giving the jacket to his friend. Helmets in place and departed back home. Regardless of Puck and the pouring rain, Sam made a point of leaving Rachel at the door.

"See you at school?" Sam asked.

"Of course... we need to make the biggest publicity for others who have stuck guilty."

Sam smiled and kissed Rachel's lips. One kiss is expected to happen after a date. They had a great day together, they liked each other and other people saw they had chemistry. So why not? The kiss however aroused an unexpected feeling in Rachel: that perhaps she preferred a friend rather than a boyfriend. But she wouldn't say anything right there. She didn't want to ruin a good day with an overwhelming observation.

The door opened suddenly. Puck had a frown on his face.

"She's already home, bro!"

Without wishing a fight, Sam nodded and said good-bye. Rachel entered de house, greeted Anna and Natalie before heading straight downstairs for her bedroom. She was almost running. Still, Puck followed her.

"You have to break up with this guy" He determined.

"How can I finish something that hasn't even begun, Noah? It was just a peck."

"Still, dating this guy is bad news. Sam is a liberal."

"But do you even know what that means?" Rachel was harsh. "Or do you know why you think Sam is a liberal?" Puck was speechless.

Sam was a guy who didn't like politicians and refused to get a government propaganda magazine once, as many people did. Other than that, he never gave more reasons to generate mistrust. He never openly admitted the points he hated in government, that he had no prejudice against homosexuals, that he advocated a more tolerant society and that John Lennon was his favourite Beatle. And that yes, more once he thought of get out of that country. Rachel wanted it too and be an actress, or a singer. Sam wanted to make music without worrying about the words he would say, with the ideas he would like to defend.

"Or maybe you don't like him because he doesn't want to act like you and the others," Rachel challenged. It was stupid, but she could not help it. "I know about the fascists' group that you are getting involved!"

"If I were you, I'd take more care of your tongue." Puck's tone was dangerous. "This time I let it go, Rach. Just don't count on luck." He turned his back and left the room.

Rachel sighed. She realized that there would come a point that her living with the Puckemen was being a pain in ass. Maybe it was time to think seriously about leaving home. She was seventeen, which meant that Anna was no longer accountable for her actions, but she had a duty as guardian to provide a roof until Rachel turns 18. This date marks the end of Foster program allowance Ann receive to give Rachel a roof. Rachel knew that after her birthday, it would be a matter of days or few weeks at best until Anna kicked her out of the house. She needed to think carefully about what to do next.

…

On Sunday morning, after helping Anna with breakfast and cleaning the house, Rachel walked little more than half an hour to the Lopez house. Luckily, it was a cloudy day with a discreet sun. She wanted to see how Quinn was getting along with the family.

"Rachel!" Juan waved. The doctor was exhausted. He had just arrived home from duty.

Rachel looked ahead into the yard, and was surprised to see Santana's motorcycle parked, but not Quinn's car.

"Good morning. Mr. Lopez. Is Santana home?"

"I think she is... maybe the weather wasn't good at camp. Come in... she may be at her room. You know the way."

Rachel get in the house, spoke to Maribel before go upstairs to Santana's room. She knocked on the door and identified herself before being allowed get in. She found Santana lying on the clean bed with her clothes soiled with dirt and mud.

"Hi!" Rachel noticed Santana's tension, so she was cautious. "I didn't expect to see you this early."

"Me neither." Santana looked frustrated and Rachel assumed something had gone wrong.

"Quinn?"

"She sent me a message on my cell phone. She's in a hotel."

"Would she..." Rachel soon thought of Quinn betraying everyone.

"Rach... I don't know. Only I can't ignore any hypothesis." Santana sat on the bed and put her hands on her head. Rachel had never seen her so worried and frustrated before. Also Santana's expression of pain didn't go unnoticed. It made Rachel feel uncomfortable in the stomach. "I may have made a mistake in inviting her... The bigger buttons approved, but that was my idea, my responsibility. Quinn is a high risk I paid to see" She said whispering. "If I had thinking a bit more, maybe I would have made everything different. Quinn can be used as a political weapon, you know? But it wasn't quite what I thought. I just wanted to help her, and this headache is what happens when you don't calculate the risks. Learn from my mistakes, Rach. When the time comes, you will have to be a better leader."

"What are you talking about?"

"Forget it, ok…"

"For now… anyway… What happened to you?"

Santana shook her head. She had trouble getting up and picking up the backpack and took an envelope from inside. She showed Rachel the sender, Shelby Corcoran, and gave it to her. Rachel was anxious about the letter, but she was also worried about the blood stain on the brown envelope.

"It's not mine..." Santana said softly. "I hurt myself when I fell off the bike... nothing serious. Luckily, I wasn't on the asphalt. I didn't see what I hit because I was in hurry and I fell on the ground."

"San..."

"That's what I could save..." She held up her backpack full of letters. Rachel may feel that the leader was on the verge of an emotional breakdown and this was scary. "I was able to get almost everything before..."

"San. What did you do?" Rachel asked carefully, keeping the tone of whisper.

"It was an ambush. I got those letters and I ran... it was high dawn... I never put my bike along with the other cars... I always hide it in the bush... the guys always make fun of me... they called me paranoid... but they came... the intelligence squad... there were shots ... it was horrible... I got out... and everything exploded... I think I kill someone…"

Santana sat on the floor and Rachel ran hug her and allowed the leader to cry against her body. Eventually, Santana was silent. She wiped away her tears and stood up with some difficulty. She had the stoic mask in place and closed the backpack.

"I'm likely to be late for school tomorrow. So you're going to do something for me." She went to the closet and picked up a bag of buttons. She separated some and gave them to Rachel "Put them in the lockers. Now get the hell out of here."

Rachel opened her hand. They were red buttons.


	12. New button

_"Dear Rachel,_

 _You can't imagine how happy I was when I read your letter and see your photo. It was a joy to finally see your face, to see how much you are a grown-up and beautiful young woman. I barely believed when I saw how similar we were._

 _I'm not hurt by what you said. On the contrary. It shows that you are strong with great personality. I know that for you, unfortunately, I am a stranger. I am the woman who left you in the arms of men who had no obligation to look after you. Still, Hiram and Leroy stood by you until they were taken away from you. I understand that and I'm deeply sorry._

 _I showed your photo to Beth and she was thrilled to have an older sister. I hope one day you can be here by my side, so I can introduce you to another part of your family. Will this day still come? I pray for this dream to come true._

 _I asked Gabriel what's the possibility of calling you. He explained that there are some, but that this requires a secure line and that you still need to have a bigger button, whatever that means. It's regrettable that the government registers any link between the two countries. Even if they aren't listening, I don't know if it would be wise for you to take the risk. Anyway, if you ever need it, my phone number is 87-759-7648._

 _I would like our letters to be more efficient in the sense of knowing each other. I've thought of ways to make it happen and I think maybe a game might work. I suggest a topic about some subject and you then do the same. So we talked about it. What do you think?_

 _For example: describe an ordinary day of your everyday life: My routine is nothing special. I get up, fix breakfast with my husband's help, and help Beth to dress to school. After leave your little sister at school, I go to work. I am a singing teacher and the school where I work has a good musical program from which I can teach teenagers. I often talk to some theatre professionals and "steal" choreographies, vocal arrangements. I apply many techniques in my classes. Students seem to like every time I bring new challenges to the classroom. I keep working after school. I take some time to research new and old pop music. The other part of the time is to take care of the house and Beth. My husband arrives from work early in the evening, we have dinner and talk and this is my usual day. There is no glamor, but I like my routine here._

 _A good day: Five years ago I directed a school play called "It's like this?" It's an unpretentious musical comedy about a saleswoman who told the most absurd stories to justify her bosses, because her performance was not as expected. We got a good review from the local newspaper review had our little play sold out the tickets. We had to do three extras sessions that weekend. It was amazing._

 _One bad day: When my house was robbed three years ago. That was a bad day. No one in my family was at home at the time, which I appreciate. They took material things like television, stereo and a home theatre. I felt insecure and powerless, not so much because of the violence of the world, but because I realized that we are subject to luck and some benevolence of outsiders._

 _The photo I send this time is me with your little sister, Beth. Once again, I hope we can meet soon._

 _I look forward to more news from you._

 _I love you,_

 _Shelby._

Rachel finished reading the letter for the fifth time. She didn't have decided whether she appreciated Shelby Corcoran's efforts to contact in that egocentric tone or she try to appreciate the irony of it. It bothered her, perhaps because, deep down, Rachel knew that egocentrism was something she shared with her mother. She's not worse because the buttons taught her. She loved Beth. Her half-sister was a pretty little blond girl, that Rachel soon realized that the girl may look like her father, or maybe the child look with some relative Rachel doesn't know about. Rachel saved the photo before follow the ritual of destroying information. Santana had already broken too many protocols by handing the letter over. Out of respect for everything the leader has gone through, Rachel didn't think it was right to cheat and keep the letter, even though she wrote down the phone number. It would have been very risky, especially after Puck started bothering her after they disagreed over Sam and every political and ideological barrier that arose between them. Rachel chop everything so well until it was unlikely to put the pieces together. She put all the 'confetti' into the garbage outside the kitchen. A pity she couldn't answer so soon because of the red button. She left the new photo inside one of her books and imagined how would be meet Shelby, Beth and her step father. Would she fit in the family? It's hard to say, but Rachel believed that her time with her mother and everything about Shelby just blow over. She's almost 18: an adult. In a way, Rachel had a family. Her buttons' circle was odd family, but it was hers.

Rachel woke up a bit late for her athletic training, but still managed to catch the bus: the first one that was passing by headed to school. Before going to the locker room, she went to the lockers and fulfilled Santana's determination: she sent the red button message to the others. The red button meant that there was danger alert, and all button-related activities were suspended until further notice. Whenever there was a red button, it was because something serious had happened. In this case, the invasion and explosion of one of the button installations could bring a series of disastrous consequences for the organization. Santana was a traditionalist who liked to use the real buttons as well as the electronic message with the code. Rachel respected that and put red buttons on her friends' lockers.

She ran into the locker room and pushed the backpack into hers. The cheerios were in the gym doing bodybuilding, so Rachel wasn't sure if Brittany or Quinn were there. She tried to concentrate on her own training. Running was good to momentarily disconnect from certain thoughts or problems. She found Brittany in the lockers room after training. She assumed that her friend hadn't yet seen the red button because of the joyful way she reacted.

"Hi Rach!"

"Hi Britt. How's your training?"

"More of the same. The coach screamed in our ears... San didn't come. Well, she called me last night and said she'd be late for school."

"Okay." Rachel changed her clothes.

"How was the date?"

"Date? Funny… why didn't you go?"

"Because it was your date with Sam, not mine." Then Brittany looked around to make sure there was no one listening to the conversation. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure." Rachel knew that Brittany's secrets were always about some gossip. "Everyone screwed up the movie because Kurt said you and Sam are good together."

"Was it a trap?" Rachel was indignant. "Britt, I love Sam as a friend. I don't want to date him."

"Going to the movies with him was that bad?" Brittany frowned.

"No, our day together was very enjoyable. But I'd rather go out with Sam if it's my decision to do it."

"It's just that Kurt said you two are cute together. I dig it."

"I never say never, but Kurt is wrong."

"Why? Are you one of that asexual persons? You never date anyone but Kurt. This is weird."

"I wasted so much time in platonic love for someone who wouldn't be good to me. That was my problem, Britt."

"Ah, yes... Hudson. You know what, Rach? If your deal with guys never works, maybe you should try girls."

"What?" Rachel was taken aback.

Brittany just smiled and finished packing for class. Rachel did the same and decided that afterwards she would have a frank conversation with Kurt. She paced hallways, ignoring the glances. After some time as a slut, the effect of the disapproval of some and the contempt of others lost their strength. She saw Kurt talking to Mercedes and Artie down the hallway, and when she decided to confront her fake boyfriend, her gaze was diverted to another scene. Santana and Quinn were walking together and they looked serious. The button was tempted to approach the girls, but as Santana gave her no sign that she would be welcome, so she decided to back off. Rachel returned to focus on her friends. Yes, she needed to say a word or two to Kurt. But it was Bobby Surette's turn to cross her path.

"Hello Rachel."

"Hi Surette..." She said in surprise. The jock never greeted her.

"How are you today?"

"I'm good?" She frowned. "Do you want something?"

"I was thinking if you and me could meet after school to… talk or do something else if you are willing. Maybe you can show me some of your techniques." He said insinuating himself.

"What?"

"Aren't you and Hudson's brother done?"

"What?"

"So, it isn't true?"

"It's none of your business!"

Rachel dribbled the jock and headed toward the group where Kurt was with. When she reached them, the signal rang, but Rachel didn't hit the ball and held her friend before he escaped.

"Hey!" Kurt pretended some irritation.

"I need to talk to you. Now!"

"We have classes."

"Kurt..." She leaned closer and whispered in his ear. "Don't make me do a scene here in that hallway."

Kurt looked at Mercedes and Artie, who had almost godly looks. Then they exchanged nods and entered the room, while the false couple took a different path, toward the choir room, where, theoretically, they wouldn't be disturbed. As she closed the door to the soundproofed room, Rachel folded her arms.

"What have you been up to?" She said indignant.

"I can explain. And I can tell you it's all a favour I'm doing to you." Kurt sat down in one of the chairs and motioned for her to sit next to him. Rachel rolled her eyes and stood, which made Kurt sigh. "Ok... what did you hear?"

"Britt said the movies was your idea so that Sam and I could get together. And now in the morning, that disgusting Bobby Surette was insinuating some sex meet. What the hell, Kurt?"

"I think you and Sam have a lot in common. So I decided to leave the field free for you two to explore this... friendship. So no one will judge you or accuse you of being a slut."

"Who gave you the right to take this decision unilaterally? If you didn't want to continue with our game because you were tired or bothered with something, I would understand perfectly. It's okay for me, though I would miss the dinners in your house. But this? Because you think I and Sam could be an item? You're an idiot, you know that? "

"Rachel, be reasonable."

"I spent almost all Saturday with Sam. It was wonderful, I had a lot of fun, then he kissed me at the porch when he brought me home…"

"You kissed?"

"Yes, we kissed… but you know what, Kurt? What I felt kissing Sam was the same as I feel when I kiss you. It's kind of nice, but it doesn't cause me good chills. So… friendzone…"

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I do, Kurt!" Rachel raged.

"Oh!"

"Yeah! Now you're playing the brave guy who kicked out your slut ex-girlfriend, meanwhile there's going to be a line of guys hinting on me, trying to get some!"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Mercedes was at my home on Sunday and said she saw you and Sam in the mall. I said it was okay because we were done. Finn was nearby and heard what I said. He must have talked to someone who ended up spreading the fake news."

"Did Finn say something to you?"

"He asked me if I would be ok if I see you with another guy. I said that I didn't really care… oh shit…"

"What?"

"I think Finn is interested in you."

"Really?"

"Yeah… So… what do you think about this possibility?"

"I don't know, Kurt. If that happened a few weeks ago..." Rachel sighed and decided to sit next to her friend.

"Are you serious? What did Finn do to keep his charm from working on you?"

"Remember that party when there was... that mission? To find the list?" Kurt nodded. "I think that was more the way he talked to me. I was more annoyed by my brief conversation with him than all the confrontations I had with Quinn. Then there was the story with Sam, and how Finn and Puck are acting like two assholes these days."

"In Finn's defense, and let me do it because we live under the same roof, he's not a brown shirt. At least, not yet, because, frankly, I don't know how far Puck's influence on him goes."

"Finn used to be a nice guy. What happened?"

"He was really hurt when he found out about Quinn. That has changed him a bit..." Kurt broke into a brief silence. "Let's face it, Quinn is a horrible person."

"You're wrong." Rachel said without looking at her friend, who faced her with a question mark on his face. "Quinn has too many problems. Things that made her create such aggressive and cynical behaviour because of them. But believe me, it's just defense mechanisms, and I don't blame her for having them."

"What do you know about Quinn I don't know?" Kurt asked slowly.

"Nothing at all."

"Rachel..." Kurt tried to push for more information.

The point is that Quinn having the blue button was a fact that Rachel wasn't sure if she could be spread among the other buttons, because the full acceptation involves an official presentation of the new component to everyone else in the circle. Rachel also remembered the conversation she'd had with the leader the day before, about the risk of making the invitation. For all that, she decided to keep the information to herself.

"That's not something to gossip about."

"So the story of the older lover with the heavy hand is true?"

"Kurt! Please!"

"I knew it..."

"Really! This isn't something to gossip about. Not to mention that Santana would be pissed. And you wouldn't like to see her angry, would you? "

Kurt swallowed, then rolled his eyes.

"Okay... no nasty comments about Quinn Fabray's sex life... for now." That's when he looked at the door just to check that no one was around. "Speaking of Santana... I saw the red button message. What happened?" He said almost whispering.

"Something went wrong at one of our facilities. Kurt, if you had seen the way Santana came home yesterday... it was a very serious thing. So I think we should really respect the red button order."

Kurt nodded. Even with all the taste I had for good gossip, even between buttons, there were subjects that should win all seriousness. Before leaving the room, Kurt held her friend's hand.

"One last thing, just to confirm... are we really done?" Kurt said seriously.

"I think so. Maybe it's better since things have reached that level. "

"Okay, I'll fake some hurt, but if someone tries to harass you, I swear I won't hesitate to defend you."

"I know that. And I do can defend myself nowadays." Rachel kissed Kurt's cheek and was the first to leave the choir room.

At the lunch break, Rachel sat down at the cafeteria table with Sam despite all the glances: now the gossip that circulated was that she broke up with Kurt to stay with him. They saw Puck, Finn and two other school athletes approach the table, most likely to taunt Sam, who would hit Rachel as a consequence. But before the group made the final approach, Santana walked in front of Puck and she wasn't happy.

"Go to another hen house, Mammoth."

"Get out, Santana" Puck warned.

"Give it a try," She said menacingly, then turned her back to Rachel and Sam's desk.

The leader sat down with the now fake couple and, with a characteristic gesture with her hands, soon Kurt and Brittany sat with them. To the astonishment of everyone else, but Rachel e Santana, Quinn Fabray timidly approached the table and sat next to Brittany. When Kurt threatened to comment, Santana looked at him in warning. He took some of the juice calmly, to face the others.

"No offense, Quinn," Sam said, trying to keep up politeness. "But why are you here, sitting with us?"

"Because our circle is going to walk together from now on." Santana said quietly and calmly, but with almost frightening authority.

"Does that include... Quinn?" Kurt finally asked hesitantly.

"That includes Quinn," Santana confirmed. "And you have the task of helping her become one of us. My blue button is on her hand."

Kurt and Sam's jaw dropped. Brittany, on the other hand, was excited. Rachel's eyes met Quinn's. They exchanged silent confidences.

…

"Rachel?" Sam caught up with her friend when she was left school.

"Hi, Sam." She said normally.

"Could we talk about this weekend?"

"Do you want to talk about the kiss?"

"Yes... do you think..."

"Sam, I'm sorry. You're a near a perfect guy: all I could wish for, but I think we'd better stay exactly as we are: like good friends and button partners."

"Why? I thought you liked when we kiss."

"Yes I did like when you kissed me."

"But?"

"But a realised that I like you as my friend. Since we met, you've been nothing but a great friend. My best boyfriend. I don't want to lose what we have."

"It doesn't mean that if we ..."

"Sam... that kiss just confirmed what I really feel for you."

"Oh... that hurts."

"Don't look this way."

"I need to go."

"Sam..."

"I'm serious, Rachel, let me feel offended for one day, please. We'll talk tomorrow."


	13. Seban's shelter

Rachel thought it was a martyrdom to do History homework. She hated the subject, the teacher and, to make matters worse, she couldn't believe a comma of what the textbooks said about the country. First there was a great federative republic that disintegrated because its states and regions could no longer understand each another politically, economically and culturally. In addition, there was a major internal economic crisis and a weak government that helped to destabilize the original great country. Three years of brutal war sacramentalized the divisions. The East said it would found a federation itself because it was tired of supporting the other backward and archaic states. Texas said something similar, but it took the opportunity to colonize the other regions with economic deprivation. The West became the most liberal of the resultant countries and opened the borders to Mexico, although it maintained close economic and cultural partnership with the East. The North has become a theocracy federation. And, of course, there was the new country in the central region that, at the beginning, sought to open the dialogue, but it not to define itself as a new nation. That was fatal.

The books didn't explain how this led to the takeover of the central country's parliament by a fascist group. They blamed everyone else who was opposed to them about the economic and social crisis. Since the taking over, they have worked years of progressive hardening. The popular demonstrations were little by little repressed, the free press was banned in the same way, many of the large companies are nationalized, although the government allowed the average citizen to own its business to some degree. Authors began to be censored or withdrawn from circulation. Suddenly, certain religions had to be controlled by official records, the islam was the first religion banished, the population could no longer leave the country without government authorization, homosexuality was no longer acceptable, many civil rights were strangled. Years of progressive repression. The fascist government cooked the population in a water bath until it was completely dominated.

Sometimes a historical period is distorted only to reinforce a particular ideology. Rachel had access to other views on the "rage" that originated the seven independent counties and three federations, as well as on the events that led to the fascist state. On the one hand, it says that the economic crisis has opened the door to a succession of coups. The official version says that the government has made a revolution in democratic ways to save the country from further fragmentation. There are reasons and reasons, but the resulting synthesis of everything that could be closer to the real facts is never made and is never devoid of interests.

The teacher told about famous marches that took place a decade earlier. A violent movement in which Hiram and Leroy were arrested and then executed by the state. Rachel never was in a march: neither authorized nor much of an irregular and spontaneous one, although she knew that there were circles of buttons responsible for organizing and administering popular demonstrations, especially in the capital. She remembered some that Hiram talked about. The most emblematic was when a small group decided to join as many scattered around the country and travel the capital to protest against Russell Fabray's law in the only time he was able to elect to the national parliament as county representative. Rachel's parents made posters and banners. She helped in some. She was only nine years old and didn't understood much about politics and citizen's rights. Her dads bothered to spare her "unpleasant matters." She was just a girl with happy childhood and big dreams. They wanted Rachel to stay this way as much as possible.

"Rachel!" She was awakened by Puck. She was at home, on top of the books, trying to study for a test. She didn't even notice her foster brother approach. "Daydreaming?"

"I think so." She looked right at her foster brother and was startled by the look in his eyes. "Did you shave the mohawk?" She brought her hand to her chest as if she had seen a ghost.

"That?" Puck ran a hand over his shaved head in one. "It was time to go."

"But you loved the mohawk. It was your trademark!"

"My trademark can't be a haircut. This is just stupid," he said almost rudely, even if he had a point. "This test should be very important to make you be home by seven."

Puck had another point there. Not that the test was that important, since her grades were good in the matter, but Rachel actually began to spend as much time as she could out of that house. The Buttons were still in red button mode, an action that spread to the other circles in the city for some reason that Rachel didn't completely understand. Parallel to this, Puck and some jocks were more and more going deep to the brown shirt ideology. They had a specific greeting, spoke more and more of nationalistic ideas, and preached discipline and cooperation as ways to create a qualified youth and thus help change the country for 'the better'.

Rachel didn't have problems with a more conservative political stance. She knew that there were periods of democracy in which conservatism was necessary. If left-wing policies tended to value actions that promoted social transformation and were able to advance ideas and rights more easily, right-wing policies tended to value economics and social order and set brakes that could be salutary to development. Healthy democracy is like a pendulum without much breadth, which moves continuously a little to the right and a little to the left.

The problem was when someone pushed the pendulum to extremes, one way or another, and fixed it there. In both cases the consequences were the social strangulation and the obsession for total control: the press only exists to advertise the government, the information is manipulated grotesquely, the economy is led to god will provide, bureaucracy eclode, and civil rights are denied, the different ones are fought with bullet and prisons if necessary. Censorship silences can be deafening.

Rachel read some political thinkers banned once in the button library because she was 'forced' by Santana. Although she prioritized art and culture, she was grateful to have contact with the text of such thinkers and researchers that made her reflect. That's why the alternation in power was salutary. She understood that it was good to value one's culture, the flag, and love of one's country. Being a good citizen was a way of loving the country. Fight and demand better living conditions, for a good education as well.

Another thing was being ultra-nationalistic and develop xenophobic, racist, and prejudiced concepts. Other day, Puck criticized Rachel for not going to church any more (she was a Jew like her dads). Then by not caring about the family, in this case the Puckerman's, because the lack of the money she was given to Anna. Rachel wanted to laugh out loud. The day before Puck complained because Rachel never defended a national artist to be played in the choir.

Apart from the occasional criticisms Puck made, how absurd is that the Chinese colony had an eastern quarter in the capital. There were also the prejudiced stereotypes reproduced in the colleagues themselves. He said that Santana's Latin blood contributed to her bitchy attitudes. That caucasians had to be better at school than Mike and Tina, to prevent the Chinese advance in the world. Other times Puck told Rachel that the Jews killed Jesus Christ.

She wanted to avoid listening to Puck's preaching's and sermons against Sam. As if that weren't enough, Puck also started saying Santana was a liberal because of the attitudes he rated as individualists. Yes, Rachel knew better than anyone how much Santana was closed and individualistic in many things, but it was just a little piece of her persona. The little diva could no longer hear Anna's complaints about lack of money, and Rachel had arranged more tutoring and a nanny job, something she hadn't done in a long time. And she had the buttons, her friends: she liked to go out to have fun with them, or spend some time at Santana's house, which used to be very relaxing.

"I can't go out every day, and I have homework today." Rachel replied with a shrug. "And tests to study."

"I have a job at a party this weekend. Are you in?"

"Money is always good. Whose is it?"

"Karofsky."

"Perfect. I'm in!"

"But there's a condition."

"What?"

"Sam's out." Rachel's blood boiled.

"Sam has always been in our scheme, he's competent and he needs the money as much as we do. It's not fair that you should exclude he just because you're in a tantrum."

"I am Karofsky's contact, not you. That means I choose my team, and I don't think Sam should continue in our scheme."

"What did he did to you now to be so angry with him? You were friends. It's not possible that a silly discussion has caused this."

"Sam disrespected me by saying that I'm a puppet because I want to enroll after school. He has thoughts and attitudes that can cause trouble, and if I were you, I wouldn't be around him any longer, or he could drag you too."

"So he doesn't like the government. So what? It's his opinion."

"It's a wrong opinion. A dangerous' one. You should know better than anyone."

"Sad that we can't have different opinions anymore!" Rachel raised her voice. She was tired of it all. She was tired of seeing the one who was almost a brother become a brown shirt and she couldn't say anything about it. "Sam is not the guy who gets into trouble, Puck. He doesn't do anything wrong. He only works and has an opinion you disagree with. If his crime is to have an opinion, don't you think there's something very wrong going on?"

"We aren't in a perfect world, but we live in peace."

"Peace without a voice is fear!" Rachel blew out and immediately understood that she had made a mistake.

She was no longer arguing with one of her oldest friend and foster brother. That discussion was with someone completely incorporated into the system and who had lost the ability to question. Puck believed in the government, he believed in that fascist scheme. He accepted it and liked it. He became a blind militant of an excluding cause.

"Look..." Puck sat next to his friend and spoke calmly. "You live in this house for about four years, right?" His face was a handful, but Rachel didn't move. "I consider you more than a friend. You are my other sister, so I give you this wise advice: there are certain things that you should keep to yourself."

Rachel sighed. As much as Puck had been brainwashed, what he said was valid: she had to shut her mouth indoors too.

"I understood! I'm out!"

"What?"

"About Karofsky's party. I'm out."

"Because of Sam?"

"Because we no longer are a team."

Rachel went to the kitchen and drank a glass of water. It was difficult to go back and study for the test. She tried to read two, three paragraphs from the History text. Her eyes passed through the letters, but her mind didn't assimilate. Rachel closed the book. Suddenly, she felt a desperation, a bad impression, a weight on her stomach.

She went downstairs to the basement and began picking up some things from the shelves, basically a few books with fake covers, two journals and some CDs of targeted artists. Then she thought of someone she knew could help. Rachel put everything in her backpack and left the house. She got on the bus and went to the house of the person she had the least contact in the circle. Rachel went down in the residential set of people with some money. She read the address again and walked two more blocks until she found a beautiful two-story house painted light yellow. She rang the doorbell and waited for the door to open.

"Hi Seban." Rachel smirked.

"Rachel!?" The boy invited her in. "It's not that I'm not enjoying your visit, but... aren't we in red code?"

"Can't I visit a friend?"

"It's just... I've known you for about three years and you've never came for a social visit. By the way, not even on business."

"We are at the same circle, Seban. One day this would have to happen."

Rachel looked the living room of a comfortable, neat house. Seban was the circle's hacker, the computer genius Santana recruited shortly after Rachel and Matt, when he was just ten. From the boy's abilities, it was obvious why Santana wanted him on the team, even if he was the youngest in the group. Because Seban studied at the same school as Blaine and Matt, these two, besides Santana, had the most contact with the boy.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes... my parents are working."

"Cool."

Rachel didn't know many things about Seban, other than the skills for technology, that he was an only child and had a good family. Seban had the metal button that gave access to the bat-cave and was very close to Santana, especially when she planned some missions in which she needed help. But what were his preferences, what music he liked, favourite food, favourite colour, tics, bad habits... Rachel didn't know Seban in that sense, which was a pity, since the boy was really cool: he was a button.

"Would you like tea, coffee, soda?" Seban offered.

"I accept water."

"Of course!" Seban ran into the kitchen and came back with a nice glass of water over a small tray. Rachel raised an eyebrow at the formality. Seban waited for her to drink before spoke again. "What brings you here? Business? Santana sent you to something and forgot to tell me?"

"I didn't come here because of Santana. Actually, I need a favour. I'd take it to headquarters, but we're on a red button and that place is closed for us, so... " Rachel opened her backpack. "I need a safe place to put those books and records. I can't longer keep it in my house. Besides, I wouldn't ask Santana or Sam because they're targeted at school and I'm afraid that might complicate them someway. Quinn is a new button and she lives in a hotel room nowadays. I know it's dangerous to give it to Kurt or Blaine and Matt is out of the town... and if I ask anything of that nature to Brittany, Santana would kill me."

"Hey, Rachel! I understood." Seban smiled gently. "That's what the buttons are for, right? In fact, I even have a perfect place. "

The boy asked Rachel to follow him into the backyard. They passed through the large kitchen and entered a backyard of verdant lawn and comes trimmed, despite the approach of winter. There was a kind of secondary house with space for barbecue and leisure. In this semi-paved space was a trapdoor. Seban opened it and they went downstairs.

"It's a tornado shelter, but it's structure can almost to withstand aerial strikes. My dad is an engineer and he made that space. It has access through the basement as well, but I think it's cooler to get in here."

Rachel was impressed. She knew nothing about Seban's family at all, never had the curiosity to ask, but his father seemed to be a talented professional. The shelter was spacious, well decorated. There was a stylized bunk, a two-seater sofa, shelves with books, CDs, a small wardrobe that was actually a pantry, and a space that looked like an ultra-compact kitchen.

"Shelter? This is extraordinary! It looks like a small, functional apartment. I would live here!

"My mother is a decorator." Seban shrugged as if that was not a big deal. "Can I see the books?"

Rachel opened her backpack again, but this time she placed the contents on a small table in the shelters. Seban was intrigued how banal books and even read in schools could contain dangerous content. The records really were controversial people in the eyes of the government censorship.

"The covers are fake," Rachel explained, but Seban paid more attention to the records.

"I didn't know that I liked punk rock!? Aren't you a fan of musical theater?"

"It belonged to my dad Leroy. He loved it. I'm not that fan, but it was one of the few things I managed to save before them taking my home with almost everything in it. "

"My dad is a fan, too. And I love punk rock."

"Your dad."

"He's not a button, but he could be." Seban spoke with some pride. "He works for one of the few multinationals that has a license to be in this country. He always tells how things are different in the workplace, as if he crosses the border almost every day. That's where he gets some things, some smuggling. Some records and books. No one comes here except me and my parents."

"So I came in the right place."

"The buttons help each other."

"Forever!"

It was a nice night. Rachel met Seban's parents, who were happy that their son introduced a new friend. Even though they sometimes wondered why he was always with some older girls, meaning Santana, who used to come by. Santana had in Seban a safe and competent base for certain jobs she asked for. Besides, the boy knew how to keep secrets.

Rachel stayed for dinner: Chinese food delivered at home. After the pleasant evening when Rachel was able to openly discuss with a non-button adult about certain musical pieces, a language that seemed to be easy to talk between people, perhaps because of the sense of closeness a song could bring. It was a very special power for something that couldn't always be called art.

Seban's father was also aware of several films banned by the government, but which were extremely popular around the democratic world. As the internet was an unsafe vehicle for a good part of the population, certain pirates were welcome. In fact, the quantity of pirate products circulating in that city, sold by men who behaved like drug dealers, was admirable: give me your money, take the product, and get out of here. Seban's father know that his son had access to everything, and in a much more convenient way, without having to pay.

Seban's parents offered a movie session for Rachel. They thought that Seban's friend was like Santana who occasionally stayed to watch a movie and eat popcorn, even if she was a bit moody. Rachel, even with the temptation to stay and spend more time with those nice people, promised to come back another day. However, she didn't refuse the ride and the piece of orange cake to take home.

When Rachel reached the old working-class neighbourhood, she found Anna watching a soap opera, and Natalie played on the carpet with a friend who would spend the night. She greeted the girls and went down to the basement. Rachel was frightened when she saw Puck looking at her things in her bedroom.

"Did you miss something?" Rachel crossed her arms.

"I wanted to see if you had a book from school. Since you weren't here, I decided to take a look. "He picked up a book on the shelf. It was a classic of the new crop of local writers used at school and billed in the selection exams for college. "I couldn't help noticing that you have sketches of interesting poems." Rachel froze when she saw the notebook she liked to scribble and jot down some verses. It was obvious that Puck read them. Then, he knew she had some honest thoughts in the form of verses, but Rachel was always prudent enough to make no mention of her subversive activities. "Now I understand why you're defending Sam so much. You do think like him."

"You had no right to mess with my things." Rachel was angry and relieved that she had the intuition to hide everything that might seriously compromise her.

"You have no right to put subversive things inside my house."

"Subversive? A song letter that doesn't even exist?"

"You're about to turn 18, right?"

"Yes."

"I hope you have a place to live after your birthday."

"Of course. After I turn 18, your mother stops receiving the government allowance, and I cease to be useful. I got your message, Puck. Now, if will you excuse me, this space is still mine until I'm 18, so get out of here."

She closed the door and breathed in relief. Her sixth sense had served her well this time. Still, she didn't believe Puck could identify the forbidden books or call records. But there were other notes that could seriously compromise her: some more literal outbursts, telephones, a few button codes. At least everything was safe in Seban's house. She fought the urge to call Santana. She was paranoid. What if Puck was at the door listening to her conversation? What if he had tapped the phone? Could he? Would he have the resources? Rachel tried to breathe deeply, to calm down. A shower would help. Water running through the body always helped. Water had a powerful property in taking evils and recharging energy. At least that was what Brittany used to say and Rachel learned never to doubt her friend of peculiar wisdom.


	14. Quinn's place

_Guest_ _:_ _Is this fan fiction faberry?_

 _Dear guest, this is a Fabery fanfiction. However, this fanfiction is not a romance, but a story that there is also some romance._

…

…

Seban took some minutes to hack the Fabray mansion's internal circuit. Once successful, he accessed to the video and security system, which would make it easier for Santana to enter the mansion despite all the surveillance. She, with her dark clothes and black mask covering her head, sneaked into the backyard of the mansion that morning. She waited in a darker spot in the garden until the sedative meat took effect in the dogs. No, she didn't throw meat to dogs trained to not eat food thrown to the ground. One person gave it to them. The security guard checked the dogs' barking. That's when they were intrigued with a familiar face.

"Miss Fabray? What are you doing here?" The security man asked.

Quinn was sitting next to the strangely quiet dogs.

"I missed Poppy and Luni." She said as she stroked the female's hair.

The security man didn't doubt that Quinn knew how to handle the dogs in the house. But as he remembered, she was never exactly close to the dogs.

"You shouldn't be here," the security man insisted. "Your father said that you are no longer allowed to get in his property."

"I know Billy" Quinn held the security guard by the arm. "I don't want to go into the house. I just want to... look at the house a little. Don't you mind making me a little company? So you won't be blamed for letting invaders circulate around the house."

"I'm sorry, miss Fabray. I have to ask you go. Nicely." Billy asked.

"Of course… still…" Quinn made the face of a girl who had the puppy kicked. It was irresistible.

"Ok, five minutes."

Meanwhile, Santana was sneaking slightly into the house. She had the keys, the alarm code, and a map of the house that said exactly where she should go: information given by Quinn. Her goal was to install a small device in the parliamentarian's office that would allow hack and consequent theft of data accessed in the private computer of the politician, besides the stapling of any conversation by cell phone made within a radius of 30 meters from the point of installation. Technology from the East that Santana mischievously stole from the innermost Circles of the Buttons. If Quinn still had free access to the mansion, she could just ask the newest Button to do the mission, but the ex-rich girl was practically disinherited. Knowing her father, Quinn knew that Russell would be perfectly capable of throwing the dogs at her at the slightest signal. The defamatory messages she received from all sides were a clear sign of a campaign Russell was making to erase her from the family's existence.

Santana got out as fast as she entered under Seban's security and watchful eye, besides counting on Matt's cover for any eventuality. As Santana stepped into the parked car several meters away from the house, in a dark place where the cameras were turned off, Santana removed the mask and ordered the exit. Matt walked casually down the street and was the signal to Quinn that the mission was done.

Since Rachel had no idea what was going on that night, she called Santana. And it was for this very reason that the leader's cell vibrated in the pocket of her pants as she was preparing to get in the mansion. If Rachel was in trouble right then, it would be fatal, because there was no way to divert the focus at that moment. Luckily, as she looked at the screen, Santana saw a white button picture and the text message: "Foster family".

Any message between buttons that had the illustration of a button had official character. The white button was a request any subordinate made to discuss a certain subject with its leader. The leader would respond with another white button to indicate that it was willing to listen to the request, or the black that was a sign that the subordinate should forget the subject. Santana found it pertinent and decided to attend after the mission. She sent the answer: another white button as an illustration and the message: "Cave, first time." It meant that Santana would listen to Rachel and make a decision at the button-house at 8 o'clock in the morning.

"What was it?" Matt asked as everyone was safely in the car.

"Rachel made a white button request."

"Did you accept?" Seban asked and Santana nodded. "Wow, what a miracle."

"Is it another request to get Finn Hudson into consideration?" Matt smiled.

"No... it's something else."

…

On Saturday morning, Santana got on her motorcycle and drove to the city centre. She parked and walked to the old alley. She got in the industrial refrigerator, which was actually an elevator and inserted the metal button on the dashboard and typed in the code, the elevator went down, and when she reached the destination area, she wasn't surprised to see Rachel Berry waiting for her. The girl was sitting on the comfortable couch and a soft music took on the mood.

"I need to get out of that house," Rachel said in an outburst as soon as she saw the leader.

The elevator went up and they both knew it was a sign that someone else was coming. Santana gestured for Rachel to continue, even as two older men walked down the elevator. One of them was Santana's leader in a more inner circle. The two greeted each other quickly and each continued their own business.

"Seban said you went to his house." Santana sat down next to Rachel. "What exactly happened?"

"Puck inspected my room and found a notebook that I wrote some thoughts and poems. Oh, don't worry..." Rachel stepped forward to see Santana's worried face. "It's just thoughts and lyrics that I write on it. There is an outburst here and there, but nothing related to the buttons or our circle. I had the intuition to collect everything that could compromise and took to Seban's... Incidentally, why took so long for you to respond to my message?"

"I was busy." Santana countered.

"Okay... I couldn't sleep, San. I'm scared..." She confessed with some reluctance.

"I know." Santana put her hand on Rachel's shoulder in a sign of comfort. "But you need to keep holding on until your birthday. Running out now would be very suspicious, even for someone with two neurons like Puck."

"But we're just a few weeks from my birthday. I could just get out of there and sleep here or at somebody's home, like yours. They won't tell the authorities I left."

"Of course you could have Carlos' room for a while, but Puck is a brown shirt who hates me and Sam. He doesn't hate you… yet and this is an advantage we have. If you leave now, it will raise a lot of suspicion and we don't want to attract that kind of attention. But you can pack your stuffs to leave right after your birthday."

"I'm going where? Your home?"

"We'll have a few weeks to sort this out. Until then, you can sleep this weekend in my house if you please. My parents love you anyway. You can try to spend more time with any of us... you can call Quinn to do something and make her integrate with the group a little more. You're good at this stuff. I just don't want you to face Puck or your foster mom. Keep your cool, give mrs. Puckerman some money and don't fight."

"Do you think I did right to take my stuffs to Seban?"

"Of course. Did you see that shelter? Seban is the most discreet and above all suspicion of us all."

"I wanted to get here, but... we're still under the red button... by the way..." Rachel whispered. "Shouldn't our access here be blocked?"

"Not mine and I asked to release your access." Santana grinned. "If you like, you can put the stuffs you give Seban in my safe box here. I hardly use it..."

"Do you have a safe box here? Where?"

Santana smiled and then asked Rachel to follow her. What impressed the little diva was the amount of spaces in that place. She had access to what was called the common room. On the same path toward those spaces that Rachel couldn't go. Santana typed a password, put the right index finger in biometric system reader, and the door unlocked. It was just a sizeable space with a table in the center. There were also computers in the room, telephones leaning against a base, and a wall with lockers.

"This phones…"

"All with secure line."

"Could I call Shelby here?"

"Yes, you could, but I wouldn't recommend it."

"Why?"

"Because your mother's phone is not secure. Of course it would be too paranoid to think that someone would be stapling her, yet...!"

"I understood."

Santana typed a password to open her safe box. Rachel realized that there wasn't much besides an external hard drive, two USB drives and some paperwork.

"Why are you showing me this?"

"Because I trust you." Santana smiled. "Not that this is a secret. It's just a restricted area and you will have access to it very soon. I have a safe box and you can store something here if you want. Just ask."

"I guess I should get my stuff back at Seban's house."

"You should."

"I'll do it today."

"Make sure you stay for the lunch. His parents can cook the best lasagne I've ever tried."

"Lopez!" The men who came down shortly after Santana got in the meeting room. "Can you and Berry excuse us for a moment?"

"Of course, sir." Santana nodded and left the room with Rachel, who was very curious.

"How did he know my name?" she whispered into the leader's ear as the restricted room door closed behind them.

"You're a Button!" Santana smiled.

"I know, but... I'm just a flat button."

"No, you're not... Rachel, I need a favour from you."

"What's it?"

"Call the whole circle for me to meet tomorrow afternoon. I have another appointment now and I need you to do this favour. "

"Okay, just give me the instructions."

...

"I spy a yellow object generally used as protection against bad weather, but today, that is cloudy without immediate sign of rain, I would say that the object's greatest function is to compose the set from which it is coupled."

"All this is to say you want a popsicle?" Sam laughed.

"Vanilla, please."

Rachel and Sam walked side by side, making time until Santana's call was set.

Sam paid for the vanilla popsicle for Rachel and had strawberry for himself. He offered Rachel a little, who took a bite. They sat in one of the public benches that was next to the block of the combined address. They didn't speculate about the meeting. Sam put an arm around Rachel's shoulders, which wasn't uncommon between them. Rachel had already slept a few times in Sam's arms when they clutched the uncomfortable spaces for the servants as they worked at parties. Rachel leaned her head against Sam as they finished their popsicle.

"This is a public area!" Rachel and Sam turned to the familiar voice coming from behind the bench.

"Hi Finn!" Rachel straightened up to greet her colleague. Sam made no move and kept his arm around Rachel's shoulder. His patience with the other guys, except for Kurt, was on the edge. After all, it was he who faced a growing wave of unjustified hostility by Noah Puckerman and the brown shirts. "What are you doing here?" Rachel asked.

The crush she felt for the jock (even if he wasn't a talented athlete) wasn't completely over yet, but the feeling was diluted more and more.

"My mother asked me to get an order from the bakery. You? What are you doing here at this time of the afternoon?"

"Honestly?" Sam continued with his arm around Rachel's shoulders. There were rumours they were dating, which infuriated people like Finn and Puck, but never the gossip targets themselves. "Sometimes I think you're blind. And since when do I have to have reason and place to walk with her?"

"Rachel is nice girl." Finn argued over the strange logic he had. "And you're a trouble maker. Don't blame me for being careful about the people I care about."

"Thank you for your kindness, Hudson, but the responsibility to take care of her is mine. Not yours. I'm her boyfriend. Why don't you stop being a boring bugger and get out!"

No, Sam wasn't Rachel's boyfriend. He knew that. She knew that. But Finn didn't know that.

"You'll regret it, Evans." Finn pointed a finger at Sam's face, which got mad and stood up to face the taller boy.

"Please, Finn, don't" Rachel stood between Sam and Finn.

Sam didn't really want to fight, nor Finn. They just wanted to intimidate a little and show who was the alpha of the place.

"Sam, please leave it. It's stupid." When Rachel turned to talk to Sam, Finn took the opportunity to push the guy. Sam swayed and didn't fall because Rachel supported him somehow.

"What's going on here?!" Rachel saw Kurt crossing the street with Blaine and Seban. For a moment, Finn smiled at the thought that the reinforcements would be for him. He frowned and stepped back as the boys came to stare at Sam's side.

"Since when do you defend the guy who stole your girl?" Finn pointed at Kurt.

"It's none of your business, Finn." Kurt raged.

"What are you saying?"

"You're my brother for the marriage of our parents. You're a nice guy, but sometimes you're a hypocrite!" Kurt said firmly.

"Kurt, stop it!" Rachel raged behind her friends, but Seban kept her from going ahead.

Finn took a step forward. He was angry. He wanted to fight Kurt for his "betrayal." But it was four against one.

"Forget this shit." He turned his back and kicked a store promotions easel.

The five of them breathed a sigh of relief. There were people watching in the street: some nervous and others eager to see the fight. One of them was about to call the police.

"We're all good, right?" Blaine looked at his friends.

"It was better than I imagined." Kurt took a deep breath, grateful that there was no physical violence.

"Let's go..." Rachel was annoyed by the confusion.

The address indicated by Santana was a third-floor apartment that stood above a shop specializing in selling pyjamas. Rachel herself bought hers there, as well as her underwear. The entrance to the apartments of the building was immediately next door. The buttons recognized Santana's motorcycle parked at the specific location for the type of vehicle. Good thing she was already there, although it wasn't surprising: Santana used to be the first to arrive. They went upstairs and looked for a number 302 between the four apartments of that floor. They didn't have to ring the bell. The door opened and was behind it was none other than Quinn Fabray.

"Come in..." Quinn said awkwardly. Santana, behind the captain of the cheerios, waved for everyone to enter quickly.

The buttons looked around. The tiny apartment was a Spartan environment with a micro-stove and a little room, and the room was separated by a partition that looked more like a stretched exchanger, the kind that was bought in department stores.

"I don't have a seat at all..." Quinn said uneasily.

"That's ok, Fabray." The leader smiled quickly and motioned for the others to speed up.

Sam sat on the floor and Rachel took a seat. Seban leaned against the kitchen counter. Kurt sat on a plastic stool and Blaine stood beside his boyfriend with his hands on Kurt's shoulders. Santana walked among the commanders and was in the middle of all.

"Matt is driving Britt. They are arriving soon." Santana said.

Coincidentally, the intercom rang at that moment. They were the missing members. The buttons waited a little longer until Brittany appeared carrying pizzas. Matt had a bottle of soda and six can of beer.

"Brittany made me stop to get pizzas and drinks." Matt set the bottle and the cans on the counter beside the pizzas. "Of course I would make pizzas much better than this cheap thing... if I had time!"

"You were the one who set cookies." Brittany smiled and hugged Santana. She kissed her girlfriend quickly on the lips before hugged Quinn. "I don't believe you're finally here with us!"

"Well..." Santana rolled her eyes. "My dear buttons, you already knew about our new member, but we never had the opportunity to make it official with the full circle. There were some problems, we went into red button and we are still in a period of silence. But, finally, I thought it would be appropriate to officially introduce Quinn as the newest button in her new home."

The reaction was modest. Truth be told, there was still some discomfort around Quinn Fabray, the girl that for years stepped on and humiliated several people, including buttons. Everyone there, with the exception of those who studied at the other school, suffered some kind of bullying from Quinn. In addition, Quinn's process of acceptance was totally unilateral. Santana didn't consult or communicate anyone in that circle when she made the decision. All discussion took place in higher circles. Santana didn't tell anyone else, but Rachel, about her real intentions about Quinn's inclusion. There were questions in the air, and it's only natural that they existed. The buttons were stimulated to think, not to blindly follow any crazy idea.

Rachel search through her purse. She got up, went to the new colleague and put a blue button in her hands.

"Another invitation?" Quinn raised her infamous eyebrow. "Do I need more?"

"No... only the leader invites. Our blue button means welcome." Rachel explained and nodded to Quinn. She wanted to give a little confidence to the nervous cheerio.

"Your gesture is very noble, Rach." Matt folded his arms. "But since we're all here officially gathered together, I wanted to know why we weren't told about Quinn Fabray before she was integrated?" The question ran through the eyes of the other boys. Not so much Santana's decision not to split, but why call soon someone who was unfriendly with most people there? Santana thought it's fair to give some explanation.

"I'm not going to lie to you and say that Quinn was in my plans to join our circle since the beginning. Things happened, opportunities come, and we had a frank talk. Since then, I have been considering such possibility. I assure you that my attitude wasn't entirely deliberate. My decision has internal endorsements... And if Quinn is here among us, it's because she has my trust and because it's safe."

"To be frank, now that this is the time to be, I never thought that Quinn could become one of us." Kurt blew out. "This is still very surreal."

"Quinn, if you want to say something, that will be welcome." Santana said.

Quinn looked at the blue button Rachel handed her and took a deep breath. Santana had made sure that a circle represented family and were made by people who could be trusted with life. She looked at her new family. She looked at Santana, who hold her hand. Then her eyes met Rachel's. If it weren't for the embarrassment and tension she could laugh at the irony. The girl she most tormented at school was exactly the one who put more trust in Quinn.

"You may won't believe any words I say here, but I have never agreed to my father's actions. I've never really called politics, but I'm not completely alienated and I'm aware of the wrong things that happen. My older sister, Frannie, was sent to study abroad. Nobody questions that, right? Except that my sister was raped by my father's ally, and it didn't happen just once. My father did nothing and told my sister to keep her mouth shut because he was in the middle of a reelection. When Frannie threatened to report, my father preferred to send her away. This is Russell Fabray way of solving things: push the problem away. I could tell you so many things, but all I would do was wrapped up your stomach.

"I acted like I did at school because that was how I thought I could protect myself: if I were a heartless bitch, then in time I might be numb or something. But I couldn't be that person all the time. I broke down Santana and Rachel witnessed this ugly moment. I take this opportunity to formally apologize to Rachel. But that's when Santana, I still don't know why, decided to help me. Today I'm grateful that Santana got in my car without being invited and told me to shut up and drive. Thank you Santana for save me from my father, my life, from myself. Thank you for giving me the opportunity of my life. I talked with Santana, and a little bit with Rachel... what I learn with, alone Maribel Lopez... the things I learned so far with all of you. It was as if I were near-sighted and now I wore glasses. I hope from my heart to be able to do my best. I don't want to fail you, Santana, neither with myself, nor with any of you. Do you accept me?" Quinn finished with tears in her eyes.

"No problem on my part..." Brittany came over and hugged her.

Kurt stood up and handed a blue button to Quinn. He was followed by Blaine, Seban, and Sam. Matt was the last and it was possible to see that he was still reluctant. The circle relaxed a little more. Santana watched from the corner of the tiny apartment and she was pleased that her family had accepted the new member despite the unorthodox way she was integrated.

Soon the buttons ate the pizzas and drank the beers and the soda.

"I never imagined you'd be a button until that day in the cafeteria!" Quinn remarked to Kurt. "I confess I always suspected you were gay. But I would never guess that your boyfriend was Santana's occasional lover!"

"Yes, Blaine is my man." They hugged each other sideways. "Rachel was my beard until Sam stole her from me!"

"So it's true that Sam and Rachel are dating?" Quinn was shocked.

"We're best friends." Rachel hugged Sam quickly and smiled at Quinn. "These gossip started circulating and we really did nothing to deny them properly."

"Not to mention that it gives some pleasure to see Finn and Puck angry just thinking that Rachel and I are together." Sam flashed a smile.

"Oh!" Quinn looked at the other members of the circle. "It's a well... united group. You and Blaine. B and S..." She looked at Matt and Seban.

"They're straight." Blaine answered and Kurt wanted to laugh. "You can choose one of them if you want. Or Sam... He's available."

"Or Rachel if you like girls more!" Brittany teased.

"Do I have to choose? Is this part of the rules? "Quinn was apprehensive.

"Of course not, Quinn" Blaine replied. "You can date to anyone you want. But getting involved with another button makes things a bit easier. You don't have to keep the secret, you know?"

"Good... I mean, not that Matt and Seban are not..." She was cut off with laughter.

"No need to justify yourself, Quinn. We get it. Incidentally, Kurt even has a conspiracy theory."

"Blaine, no!" Kurt warned, but his boyfriend didn't call.

"He thinks given your relationship with Finn Hudson hasn't even reached second base because you might like girls."

"I... I... I... I don't like Finn. I dated him because it was a rule for a girl like me to have a popular boyfriend at school. I chose Finn precisely because he was the easiest to control. Then I was never a nice figure in school and being with Finn Hudson helped me not to look like a complete bitch."

"About that last part, it didn't work, Fabray. Regardless of the Hudson, I've always found you a complete bitch!"

"Santana!" Brittany caught the attention of her girlfriend.

"Even so, you and Puck..." Kurt hinted.

"Puck was a drunk mistake. I don't want anything with him." Quinn felt bad about her romantic life. "Look, I don't think about having relationships now, but if Kurt needs a new beard now he's done with Rachel, I can help."

"That would be great." Kurt thanked her. "And it would do wonders for my popularity."

One by one the buttons were leaving the place. First were Kurt and Blaine, then Matt gave a ride back home to Seban. Finally, Sam left Quinn's new home when Santana made sure she would drive Rachel, especially since there was a curfew that was in vogue that weekend. As Brittany and Rachel cleaned up the little mess to spare the housekeeper, Santana opened the refrigerator, which was essentially Quinn's new refrigerator, and took out a bottle of wine.

"To celebrate, ladies." Immediately she began serving the drink into the disposable cups, the only ones in the house.

"Santana Lopez!" Brittany warned. "Why did you hide it from the boys?"

"This is a classy little thing that I took off from Russell's and would not share with eight more people. Sharing with the girls is more reasonable."

"You stole it from my father's office? Wow, that's classy!" Quinn smiled.

"When did you…" Rachel was confused.

"It's classified, Berry."

Rachel wasn't at all surprised by the leader's pragmatism. Although she doesn't like drinking, sometimes she accepted a little just to not be a party pooper. Rachel drank some of the slightly sweet wine. It was delicious. She sat back down on the bench while Santana sat on Brittany's lap. For Rachel, this was a normal interaction between those two. For Quinn, it was a surprise: as close as Santana and Brittany were in school, nothing came close to that interaction.

For a reason, which Quinn hadn't yet stopped to think about it, seeing two girls kissing made her jealous. She thought that Santana and Brittany were a beautiful couple wished have some like that.

"How long have you been together?" Quinn asked.

"We've been exclusive for six months," Brittany explained matter-of-factly. "But we've be together for almost two years, right babe?"

"In my defense, we decided for an open relationship because I had a certain agenda to fulfill, okay?"

"That's why you sleep with Puck?" Rachel teased.

"Drunken mistake?" Quinn teased.

"Who never slept with Puck?" Santana snapped. "From this circle here, as far as I know, the only one who didn't sleep with him was Rachel!"

"Has he ever tried sleep you?" Quinn asked Rachel.

"Once." Rachel didn't want to elaborate.

"Careful babe, you'll drive!" Brittany warned when she saw her girlfriend filling the cup again.

"That's not going to knock me over, Britt." She sat back on her girlfriend's lap and kissed her cheek. "So, Fabray, how did you like our circle?"

"Unexpected." Quinn frowned. "I don't know Blaine and Seban very well. My closest approximation to Matt was because he used to work at the parties at my house... I mean, at my parents' house." She sighed for a moment: she wasn't yet accustomed to the new reality. "I thought Sam looked all-revolutionary, but never Britt, Kurt, and Rachel. Although Rachel made me change my mind the day she took me to Santana's house."

"I'm tougher than you think. I've already jumped from buildings!" Rachel broke into a smile and Santana rolled her eyes.

"You did it once in an emergency, Hobbit. Don't boast yourself."

"And that was before I started practicing pole vaulting. Imagine what I can do now?" Rachel smiled a little bit.

"How many times have you jumped from buildings, Santana?" Quinn challenged.

"I lost count..." Santana wandered off and drank more of the wine.

"Why do you to have to jump over buildings?" Quinn was legitimately curious.

"Part of my job." Santana responded with authority that often made anyone swallow. "Your job now, Fabray, is to learn to be one of us and not get in trouble."

Once again Quinn had a fair dose of how serious and stern Santana was as a leader. She began to be fully aware of Santana's position in the group. Santana wasn't just the leader of a shallow circle: there was something great about that girl. Quinn had enough experience to recognize people with great connections when she saw one.

As soon as the wine was finished, Santana stood up. She wasn't feeling drunk, but Brittany, wanting to be extra careful with her girlfriend, said that Santana would definitely sleep in her house. The leader didn't complain at all about the determination: she knew that she would be lucky that night and began to smile inside.

"Are you coming with us, Rach?" Brittany asked as she left.

"I can leave her at home." Quinn offered and turned to her colleague. "That if you want, of course..."

"I think I'll take your ride," Rachel said promptly. "I already had the experience of being the third person on a motorcycle with these two and it was one of those experiences where I saw death before my eyes. I'll never do that again!"

"Cool." Santana scoffed, then hid a small smile.

Brittany said goodbye with a warm hug in Rachel and Quinn. Santana contented herself with a verbal goodbye before walking downstairs with her girlfriend. Quinn and Rachel stared at each other. It could be said that the situation was a bit strange, despite all the positive interaction they already had.

"I'm at your disposal, Quinn." Rachel said a little awkwardly.

"If you want, I can help you with all this mess."

"You've helped a lot." Quinn stared at the new house. She didn't even have much to do other than dispose of all disposables.

"It must be very odd..." Rachel rambled.

"What?"

"To live in a mansion one day, and in the other, to be in a small apartment, alone."

"Freedom is not measured by the size of the house, Berry. Or comfort. As odd as it may seem, even if this place is not ideal, I feel good here. It's different, you know? It's not so bad having to be alone for the first time in my life."

"You're not alone," Rachel said almost instantly.

"I know... I have you guys now. I mean, living alone, being alone. It's not so bad. At least I can be myself." She smiled and pointed to a backpack on the bed. "Then I have a lot to do. Did you know Santana gave me a huge book to read? Noam Chomsky. I've never heard of this guy before."

"He is a very influential thinker in the East. He's kind of anarchist, I think, but he do have interesting ideas. Santana loves Chomsky and so she uses her authority to get everyone to read. Just don't feel obligated."

"Have you read any books recommended by Santana?"

"Some. There is a bibliography that the Buttons consider basic, but Santana likes to discover some new things about politics. I can't deny that they are very interesting. But I don't like politics very much. I'd rather read about arts and culture. There is a lot of politics and sociology reflected in the arts, you know?"

"Considering that you only suggest foreign artists in the glee club, and you have that Santana record chest with things that I never thought existed... I wonder how much more you should know."

"It's not that it's a big deal, but it has so many interesting things. There are so many videos of spectacles on stages of the most diverse sizes. I read about Village Vanguard, which is a jazz club in New York where the biggest names in the genre sang and played. The stories are incredible. Barbra Streisand started singing at a Max Gordon club, and Woody Allen did comedy sketches. There is a story of Rahsaan Roland Kirk who came to perform in our country and was arrested for carrying a sword."

"What? Who?" Quinn was puzzled by her colleague's enthusiasm and sat on the edge of the bed to hear the stories.

"Rahsaan Roland Kirk? He is one of the greatest jazzmen of all time. There is not a metal instrument he couldn't play. Legend has it that he could play two metal instruments at once! He went to do a show in Akron shortly after the coup when censorship wasn't yet as harsh as today's, but things were getting complicated. At last, Rahsaan was invited to do this concert and for being one of the greatest instrumentalists of the world, the mayor gave him a decorated sword. When he boarded the plane, they found the sword and arrested him immediately. They called him a terrorist for carrying a gun in his handbag. The great detail of this story is that Rahsaan was blind! And he needed to prove to the agents that he was blind so he could leave! Can you imagine?"

"Wow!" Quinn grinned. "It's a situation I can't even imagine. Did that really happen? "

"It happened!"

"Unbelievable."

"There are many delightfully unbelievable stories."

"One day you could come here and tell me some of them."

"Certainly."

There was a moment. Although Quinn and Rachel didn't think about it at that moment, they faced each other in a comfortable silence. They both smiled and Rachel tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Quinn felt so comfortable with someone else that it was definitely an unusual situation.

"It's getting late and there's curfew today where I live." Rachel reminded her colleague, breaking the magic of the moment.

"Oh, right." Quinn got up and took the car keys. "Good thing I wasn't proud enough to leave the house even without the clothes on my body, as there are so many stories out there."

"It would be such a sight." Rachel said almost unintentionally, and this caused an immediate flush in both.

Another moment happened, but this time they were both aware. Rachel always finds Quinn a beautiful young woman and now she discovered that the girl was very nice and very different from the one who insulted her daily in the hallways. Quinn's view of Rachel also began to change: the egocentric leading choir soloist was a great company.

"Okay..." Quinn broke the moment. "We'd better go."

The drive back to the Puckermans' house was silent and quiet. The radio played a soft song and Rachel was looking out the window at the urban landscape. From time to time, she would not resist and look at Quinn. The tranquillity became a brief tension when they saw vehicles moving in trains through the streets of that part of the city. One of them had stopped in front of one of the houses two blocks from the Puckermans. A man was on his knees with his hands on his head as an officer yelled. Another agent left the house at that moment dragging a woman through the hair. Quinn didn't dare stop to watch the scene and lightly accelerated the car.

Rachel didn't know the person, but she was sure it wasn't a button because she knew all the members who lived in the neighbourhood, and there weren't many. There were many small groups working in "subversive activities" that had nothing to do with the buttons. As far as she knew, the buttons represented the largest and most organized secret organization, and why not say it was the richest group to judge by the innumerable resources. Sometimes, as Santana pointed out, they were the most bureaucratic ones too. Regardless, the greater circulation of the vehicles was a sign that things were tightening up more and more. No wonder the red button was still theoretically in vogue despite Santana's brief breakup into the rules of imposed silence.

"It's here." Rachel pointed to the house. Quinn watched the place and wasn't impressed: it was just a simple little house with a chasm on the front. "Be careful. If an agent addresses you, just obey, don't confront. If you feel anything strange, call the emergency code that the buttons will work."

"Okay ... I've been approached by agents a few times, and only by seeing them did they apologize for the inconvenience. I will be fine."

"Caution never hurts."

"Be alright."

"Be careful." In an instant momentum, Rachel kissed Quinn's cheek before she left the car.

Quinn was taken aback by the gesture that made her feel a certain shock as Rachel's lips touched her skin. The feeling was even pleasant. She shook her head and drove home without stopping.

"Did you see?" Anna pointed to the television as soon as she saw Rachel enter the house. "They disarmed a terrorist unit. More than 40 people were weights."

"Did they give more details of who they were?"

"Television said the name of the terror network. It's an acronym ... "

"DF-5?" Rachel responded promptly.

"That! How do you know?"

"I read about them once in the newspaper." Rachel lied. She knew very well who the other opposition groups were.

DF-5 was one of the most radical opposition groups that did some disservice to the Buttons because they were careless and because they liked to draw attention. Whenever they acted, the next day all security was strengthened and restrictions expanded. This caused that the popular movements coordinated by the buttons were postponed.

"Are you going to bed?" Anna asked as she saw Rachel take a walk down the basement.

"Not yet... but I'll stay in my room reading something. I walked a lot today and just want to relax. "

"Were you with Samuel Evans? "Rachel noticed a smile on the corner of her foster mother's face.

"Yes, I spent the afternoon with him and with other friends. "

"He's handsome! Prettier than Kurt." Anna was now smiling.

"Yes, he is." Rachel turned and headed back to the basement.

Yes, Samuel Evans was very handsome. But Rachel went to sleep that night thinking about another blond-haired person. The image she had of Quinn Fabray had changed completely. Rachel discovered in her newest friend a side hidden by the mask of rich and popular girl: the kindness and the strange humility. Oddly enough, Rachel thought that was a bit sexy.


	15. Protest march

The qualifiers for the school's Glee Clubs competition would take place was one of the largest in the country and the one that had major industrial importance. It had a downtown with some tall and beautiful buildings. Because it was one of the most strategic cities in the country, there were many conflicts between the working class in state-owned enterprises and multinationals that had a license to operate (many were interested in bringing factories into the country because of tax incentives and cheap work force). The city also housed the best university in the country, which was the only one in the index of the best universities in the world (178th position of 300 institutions, but, hey, the government knew how to advertise about it). The students of the institution self-asserted the most politicized of the country (there were three circles of buttons inside) but part of them are conservative and ennoble the fascist model. The government wasn't always tolerant of the opposition movements in the university and in the city, so it was a frequent stage in the news. They said it was a territory sensitive to terrorist targets, so the police force was strong and curfew were routines to the despair of shopkeepers and bar owners.

Even so, being in a big city excited the members of the choir. Those who watched from a distance could even think that this group of teenagers was very close and cohesive. Tina and Mike kiss each other and declared themselves the cutest couple in the group, which made sense because they were the only one in the choir that was known. The other, Santana and Brittany, was a shared secret only with the buttons. Santana told jokes to Mercedes, who let out a loud, peculiar laugh. Brittany seemed to tell such an unbelievable story to Quinn and Kurt over expansive gestures. Speaking of Quinn, she and Kurt began to implement the new beard plan: they would publicly approach little by little and announce that they were dating after the competition. So no one would doubt the new relationship. Rachel and Sam chatted amicably as they travelled side by side. Finn, Puck, and Artie laughed out loud. The jocks joked that Artie was one of the worst football mascots of all time.

But those who knew what was happening with that group knew that Finn and Puck couldn't stand Sam anymore. Artie was annoyed at the umpteenth rejection of Brittany. Mercedes and Rachel had discussed who should do the solo, but who ultimately inherited the service was Santana. It was Schuester's decision, because her voice was more appropriate to the song. This left the diva upset with the leader, who simply ignored her. Puck was plunging deeper and deeper into the universe of brown shirts. Artie was starting to follow the same path. Mercedes, Tina and Mike formed the point of neutrality of the group and never knew what to expect from the three. As a result, it was just the people Santana feared the most. At least she knew what to expect from Puck, Finn, and Artie. Mike? He was unpredictable, such as Mercedes and Tina.

Santana was about to release the green button, which freed the others from the condition of silence, and each could go back to whatever project or mission they were involved with. In the case of her circle, there were no missions scheduled in the short term, but she planned to take advantage of the lull to give instructions and individualized activities for each member. She decided to make Sam responsible for communicating with responsible circles in the coordination of popular movements: he liked this kind of activity. Quinn, Brittany, Blaine and Kurt would have to be more integrated into the social programs developed by the buttons. Meanwhile, Matt and Seban would continue to train for the special missions that Santana herself commanded. The leader also began to consider more and more Rachel as part of the action team, since she already helped others with small but important tasks.

This meeting on the new activities, however, would be for the return. Santana preferred to wait the qualifiers. She planned visiting the headquarters of the buttons in the metropolis. The secret society had stronger activities in the larger cities and Santana was curious to know more about the one that housed the most radical circle of buttons in every organization. She herself wasn't a radical, which wasn't mean she couldn't talk with them.

Unlike Santana, Rachel had more diverse thoughts. She was thinking about her solo lines, and also the problems with Puck and Finn, the school gossip about her and Sam, the red button, Quinn. Yes, the longer Rachel spent with Quinn, more she was impressed with her new friend. Quinn wasn't only pretty and a good student, as was well known: she also wanted to overcome her own demons. But Quinn was also a person with peculiar humour, dedicated and simple. These were characteristics that Rachel had just discovered about her friend. Truth be told, Rachel loved the Quinn under the mask.

The choir arrived at the hotel early in the afternoon. It was a cheap but decent place, where New Directions was divided into four rooms: two for men and two for women. Once again, the natural division of the group prevailed.

"Where are you going?" Quinn was curious to see Santana leaving. The leader had just thrown her suitcase on one of the beds.

"Preach a few buttons," she replied dryly, making Rachel roll her eyes.

"But San, what about our date?" Brittany looks like an abandoned cub that were hard to resist.

"Tomorrow... I promise!" Santana took advantage of the fact that there are only had buttons in their bedroom to kiss her girlfriend before leaving.

"Sometimes I think Santana is too committed." Quinn folded her arms after seeing her friend leave.

"It's her job..." Rachel understood that part. "Any idea what to do since we have a free day?"

Quinn had a few things in mind, but she didn't get a chance to say right away when Tina and Mercedes got in excited in their room.

"Have you seen the local paper?" Tina opened up on a page and pointed to a small piece. "There will be an authorized march tomorrow morning in downtown. I've never seen one! It must be so exciting!"

"And you're going?" Rachel thought that was a bad idea.

"It is an authorized march in favour of more technological resources for public schools. It's student stuff, too. What harm can it have?" Tina argued. "Have I told you that it is an authorized march? This type of manifestation is always well organized. Besides, it can be a great story for the school newspaper." Tina had a point. Authorized marches in the country meant that the government was promoting them to give the impression that there was democracy and that it was listening to the population.

"How about the danger of innocent students turning into communist demons?" Rachel wanted to beat herself when the phrase slipped out of her mouth. It was a way for her to keep a certain disguise.

"I don't think so... It won't hurt to just peek." Quinn shrugged and Tina smiled approvingly.

"Mike said he's going with me. I asked Sam, but he came up with a story that his mother might not like. I just... your boyfriend is a communist, for God sake!"

"He's not a communist!" Rachel snarled impatiently. "Why does someone who has different ideas have to be called a communist?" Sam didn't even have ideas that were unconventional.

Santana was going to freak out if the buttons went to a march without her permission. Rachel wasn't sure if it was a general sense of the organization, but Santana was against such exposure unless the orders came from above.

"Oh... Come on!" Mercedes was excited, too. "Mr. Schue doesn't need to know if this is your fear, Rach."

Mr. Schuester would scold them and say he was ashamed. That's not bad at all. Santana, on the other hand, would be able to squeeze someone, literally. That was the fundamental difference between the both cases. Rachel looked at the present buttons. Brittany was wide-eyed, frowning, in anticipation of how that would end. Quinn raised her infamous eyebrow.

"Maybe it's... interesting. I'm in! "Quinn forced a smile. Tina and Mercedes gave a shout of approval to see that the roommate was inside.

"Quinn?" Rachel almost choked and pressed a button on her blouse. She was ignored.

Quinn had many open wounds about her father and the things he forced her to do. The buttons offered a "new home," even if it was a full of rules. She understood and respected it. But she couldn't ignore her own need to rebel, to overcome the agony in which she had lived for the past two years. An authorized march? Claim something that seemed silly to you? It was worth.

"Do you want to die?" Rachel grabbed Quinn's arm at the first opportunity alone with her friend, who made an immediate jerk to free herself. "Santana..."

"Since when did Santana become my mistress? Since when does she need to control all my steps?"

"She... listen, we have to stay away from this kind of things..."

"I'm going for myself!" Quinn put her hand to her chest. "I've never asked to you come with me."

Rachel tensed.

She saw Quinn, Tina, Mercedes and Brittany go out to see what's interesting in the vicinity of the hotel. Quinn looked determined. Rachel wasn't even excited to see the city. She was left alone in the room she would share with Quinn and Santana. Then, she packed her luggage, and then decided to check who was still at the hotel. Fist she bought a soda and then she found Sam and Artie talking by the parking lot.

"I have another plan to try to win Brittany," Artie said excitedly. "A serenade today. I wanted to know if I could count on your help, Sam. You and Puck could play the guitar while I sing." Rachel's soda almost came out through her nose.

"Me and Puck?" Sam didn't believe his colleague's naivety.

"I'm sure the differences between you two aren't so bad as to steal this little favour."

"Sorry, man, I'm out."

"It's just a serenade. I would do the same for you if you decided to make one for Rachel."

The friends looked at each other. That day would be long. It turns out that Sam would not be crazy to help someone try to conquer Brittany knowing that she was dating Santana. Not even.

"I know that, but I can't. Sorry, buddy, but you're going to have to do it without me."

…

Santana come back to the hotel and it wasn't even nine in the evening. She found the buttons gathered in the bedroom watching a movie. Sam and Rachel were side by side on one of the beds, Quinn was lying alone in another while Kurt and Brittany were hugging. Among them, packets of empty microwave popcorn, soda cans and candies.

"I hope none of these beds are mine."

"Technically, none of them are yours." Kurt responded with a bad spell, but Santana didn't take it seriously. Kurt wouldn't be Kurt without the little cynical remarks uttered with a certain air of superiority.

"Great! That means the bed free of non-popcorn or soda in this room is where I'm going to sleep!" Santana countered and sat on the same bed as Quinn. "What are you watching?" Finally she looked at the television. "Jurassic Park? Again?"

"Nothing better than seeing dinosaurs eating people," Quinn replied and seemed not very interested in the movie. In fact, she was often looking incredibly at the next bed where Rachel and Sam were lying side by side.

"Because that's very inspiring!" Santana rolled her eyes and ate some of the popcorn just because of the little salt. "Are there more?"

"Each little bag is sold for three bucks in the market in front of this hotel. Help yourself." Kurt answered as Santana continued to ate the last popcorn bags.

"Do you hungry, babe?" Brittany asked.

"A little bit."

"There's a sandwich in the plastic bag."

Santana smiled and checked all the industrialized food her friends had bought. She grabbed the sandwich and devoured it while watching the rest of the movie with her friends.

"The high heel scene!" Sam cheered. "The best one."

"How can this lady run from a T-rex on heels?" Santana snarled. "I have no patience with them."

"Shut up!" Brittany was tense. After a few minutes, she celebrated the triumph of the protagonists. "That's the best scene in the movie! I love Blue!" Brittany smiled as T-rex and the velociraptor fight side by side. She began to applaud, as she always did, no matter if she saw the movie ten thousand times. She would always celebrate the fact that the big dinosaur saved the day.

"So..." Santana turned to her friends. "What did I miss while I was away?"

"Rachel and Quinn want to go to an authorized march." Kurt flinched.

"What?" Santana snarled. "What are you guys thinking? Are you crazy by chance? This is a march organized by them."

"It's a legal march. It was even announced in a newspaper. It's about claiming some computers for public schools. Tina, Mike and Mercedes are going too." Rachel justified herself.

"What's the point of being on the buttons if I can't stand up against the government or under supposedly legal conditions?" Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"Because this march is not a real one. It's a scene game. I can't believe you want to be part of it!"

Santana scratched her head. She was in conflict. She had a very complicated position where it was difficult to set a limit to when her orders should prevail over the free will of the other buttons. And their freedom? And the power of decision? The conversation with the more radical faction of the buttons made her realize that she was acquiring a controlling stance that these same radicals espoused and that wasn't as distant as the state of fascist characteristics did with boys like Puck. On the other hand, its leader from the inner circle always hit the key that each group had the leader they deserved: steady or moderate, it would all depend on how others behaved. Those were things that confused Santana. She was a teenager with a disproportionate weight of responsibility in her back. Right and wrong decisions were part of the process.

"It's a legal march, right?" Rachel and Quinn assured. At least that's what the paper said. "Well... I don't agree, but I won't stop any of you." Rachel stared at Santana as if an alien had appeared before her eyes. "What?"

"Who are you?"

Rachel's question bothered her. Santana didn't answer. She was distracted by a song that came from outside. The group left the room to the balcony on the second floor saw Artie calling Brittany while Puck was playing the guitar and Finn helped the vocals. Mercedes, Tina, appeared on the balcony of the next room. Santana's blood boiled. She felt like pushing the boy down the hill. She then sat on the bed, breathing heavily to control her jealousy.

"Trust her, San." Rachel sat beside her friend. "Brittany is crazy about you. She loves You. So trust her. It won't be a serenade that will change her mind."

Santana ran a hand through her hair. It was just a very busy day. The truth is that she was too tired and couldn't think straight.

"That's it. Kurt and Sam. Get out."

"What? Why?" Kurt protested.

"I'm too tired and I'm desperate for my sleepy beauty. Get out!"

Kurt and Sam left the room, leaving Quinn, Rachel and Santana while Brittany was in the balcony of the hotel's hallway enjoying the serenate. Santana sighed, grabbed a towel and went to take a desired shower.

…

The day dawned gray and cold. Winter was knocking on the door. Rachel got up and saw Santana still dead to the world in the next bed. Quinn was already on her feet. She was dressed in jeans, basic T-shirt and coat. Rachel thought it was strange. Quinn was a girl who use to wear dresses or the cheerios' uniform.

"Is it time to go?" Rachel asked, whispering not to wake Santana.

"Almost. Doesn't want to go?"

"I don't know..." Rachel spied Santana once more asleep. "My parents used to go to marches. Even I would like to see what it was like back then."

"So let's go! What have you got to lose?"

It was a bold move. Maybe it wasn't as exciting as jumping from one building to another, as she once did, or being on a mission that involved some danger, but that would be an experience she might need. It might be something that would bring her closer to her dads. If Santana gave Quinn free will, why wouldn't she do the same to her?

"But what about our rehearsal?" Rachel questioned.

"We're more than rehearsed." Quinn never liked the rehearsal part of the choir. "And we've never forgotten a line this whole time. Mr. Schue doesn't need to go over everything again."

"I'll get ready quick." Rachel ran to the bathroom while Quinn waited in silence.

Rachel chose similar clothes from her friend. It wouldn't make sense to go to a march with a dress or skirt. For prudence, she always had a pair of jeans in her suitcase: something Maribel taught her.

"Let's go?" Rachel put on the inconspicuous pink coat.

"At least I'll know you won't get lost from us in the crowd." It wasn't a very friendly comment. Quinn opened the bedroom door and waited for Rachel to pass before closing.

They knocked on the door of Tina, Mercedes, and Brittany. It wasn't long until they were answered by Brittany. They got in and had to wait a little longer, as Mercedes was still in the bathroom doing her morning routine.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?" Rachel asked Brittany.

"No..." She forced a vague smile. "Someone needs to keep San company."

"Which one?" Tina frowned. That nickname was very confusing.

"Santana!" Quinn, Brittany and Rachel responded at the same time to Tina's astonishment. She couldn't be blamed for not understanding half the context.

"Samuel..." Rachel complemented the explanation. "… is staying here, too."

"Good morning, bitches!" Mercedes came neatly out of the bathroom. She and Tina didn't change the style of clothing because of the different activity. "Ready for some action?"

For Tina and Mercedes, the idea of the march was nothing more than a party. Nothing more than that. Mike found the four girls inside the small dining room having those cheap hotel meals for breakfast. With the excuse that should protect his girlfriend, he decided to accompany the girls.

The five of them paid a taxi and went down to the point where it was announced that the march would be concentrated. The crowd would run along one of the main avenues, about three kilometres long, when they would turn the corner and stand in front of the headquarters of the local parliament. Generally, a government representative would come out to address that claims would be met as far as possible. And I used to do the propaganda to get along with everyone with the promises of change.

"What a crowd!" Mercedes wondered. Not that it was so many people. It should have just over five thousand people, most of whom were college students.

"And those agents over there?" Mike was worried about the officers on horseback.

"They should be there to make sure nothing's out of control." Quinn theorized. "We'll be fine."

The march started and the small crowd began to walk towards the parliament. Many pro-education banners were made and shouts of order were rehearsed. As the group gained the streets, more people arrived and increased the small crowd. From their posture and the black clothes, it was possible to see that it was a group different from the initial one. In the midst of people, Quinn was still flirted and declined three handsome young men. This was the first half hour of the march. Until a student in black climbed a small garden on one of the corners and began to address improvement in education amid the words "freedom," "right," "oppression." The cries of order began to change. At the next corner, another student picked up the megaphone and got into a parked car and addressed the audience.

"Fight against this corrupt and oppressive government. The time is now!"

The student said, and people began to respond by asking for freedom and change with serrated wrists and raised arms. Some others began to paint walls and shop windows. Rachel tensed when she saw that the agents began to shift from mere escort training to a more offensive stance.

"We need to get out of here." Rachel flinched and grabbed Quinn's arm.

"The march is almost over!"

Quinn was right, but in a wrong way. A police squad began to position itself at the end of the avenue, which would prevent the march to the parliament. The sign of the agents in black uniform inflamed the spirits of the students who began to cry "down the oppression". Suddenly, Rachel felt someone grabbing her from behind, at the waist, and at the same time saw a strong, feminine hand on Quinn's arm.

"The fun is over!" Santana shouted. It was the leader who commanded. Rachel was surprised by the sudden appearance. On the other hand, she should have known Santana would watch them unnoticed.

"No, it's not!" Quinn raged, trying to break free.

"I said, the fun is over!" Santana reaffirmed authoritarian impressing Tina and Mercedes. Meanwhile, Sam, who accompanied Santana, opened his arms and tried to force the other three to the side, where they could try to reach an alley.

Quinn nodded and gave in as soon as she saw the first agent hitting a boy in the face with his baton. As they tried to break through the march, a student stopped in front of the squad and threw a brick against the agents. It was answered immediately. The run-in began, and the plans to reach the alley in peace became unlikely. Santana continued to try to progress to the side holding Rachel and Quinn. The runner was unbearable. Noises of shots rang in everyone's ears, just like those of showcases being shattered. The next moment, the mounted police advanced the horses against the crowd of young people and students.

Rachel was a soundtrack person. She had perfect music for every moment. She planned to play Marvin Gaye when she makes love for the first time. There was a favourite song for moments of blast in happiness, another for times of frustration, she liked dance music to do exercises, and so on. But at that moment, in a scene that would yield beautiful slow-motion images, Rachel couldn't think in any music. She only heard screams, shots, glass breaking, the horses. It was the scariest soundtrack she had ever heard.

The group managed to reach an alley and, like many other people, rushed to the end toward the fence with barbed wire on top. Santana didn't know what was on the other side. If she were at home, she would know where to go. Santana knew every bit, every shortcut, had detailed in her mind solutions to escape in dozens of situations. But that was the hell of a metropolis. She didn't know where to go. Except she had to take the buttons and her colleagues away. She took off her jacket and tossed it into the barbed wires. She was the first to jump with impressive agility. On the other side was the parking lot. Santana could see the approach of a mounted agent delivering blows at the entrance of that alley. With luck, the agent wouldn't advance much.

"Hurry up!" Santana ordered as Rachel also jumped the wall with surprising agility. And then it was Quinn and Sam's turn. The shallower buttons were stimulated to do some physical activity. Rachel was in athletics, Sam was a jock, Quinn was a cheerleader, Blaine was a boxing instructor, Matt was a dancer, even Kurt and Seban, although they hated sports, they compensated in the gym.

Mike was able to overcome the wall by imitating his colleagues and he was the one who waited for the two that remained behind. Tina was pulled up by Mike and some help from Sam. Mercedes was heavy and in panic. Other people also jumped the wall and none helped. Sam pulled back to help their friend, while Santana and Mike stayed on top of the wall to help her up. They caught the attention of an agent who ran with the baton in hand. When Mercedes was already on the other side, Sam had to hurry. He pushed the agent to gain some time, even getting a heavy blow on the back. Santana shouted for him to run as fast as he could. Despite the pain, Sam jumped onto the wall, grabbed the barbed wire fence, stuck his hand in the process, but managed to cross. Fortunately, there were so many people to beat that the agent wasn't willing to jump over the wall.

Once she saw her friends safe for that moment, Santana planned the next step: where her instinct said that it would be better to run. She realized they were in the corner of a private parking lot, all fenced, except the entrance to the commercial building and exit of the parking lot itself, where the other people jumping the wall were running. A patrol stopped there to pick up some people who would satisfy the sadistic pleasure of those agents in hitting and seeing the other bleed.

"Take off that coat," Santana ordered Rachel. "I don't want you to be such a visible target." The girl answered promptly. Santana's jacket and Rachel's coat would be forgotten there.

"To the exit!" Mercedes started to run, but Santana pulled her by the collar of her shirt, hanging her briefly.

"To the building." She gestured to the patrol that had already welcomed some young people who tried to escape in the wrong direction.

"Let's wait in there?" Quinn tried to follow the leader's run.

"Not even!"

Santana knew they had to get out of that perimeter as soon as possible. As far as possible from downtown and the Parliament. It was standard procedure to besiege a certain part after events like that. The radius size varied according to city and situation. So the only certainty that Santana had was: the farther, the better.

They entered the back of the building, which looked like a commercial compound with clinics. At the entrance, Santana picked up a broom and broke it. She knew how to handle white guns. The group crossed a few corridors toward the front of the building. One of the security guards shouted and threatened to draw the gun. They didn't have time. Santana hit him with the broom handle. It wasn't Santana's intention to make him bleed. She just wanted to make way for the group to the front door. In this case, a diner or the main hall. They invaded the diner, which was closed with few people, and the staff that was watching the confusion through the large windows.

"Stop!" Mercedes pleaded. "I can't stand. We are safe here!"

"You're not my problem, Cedes. You can stay here. Actually, do it because it will be nice stop waiting for you." Santana snarled. "You come with me." Quinn, Sam, and Rachel didn't blink in obedience. Even Mike and Tina followed, because they felt secure in Santana's decisions.

The black diva screamed in horror as a brick smashed one of the windows. Four young men invaded and went straight to plunder the cash register. That's when Mercedes changed her mind and started running again with her friends, trying to keep up with them as best as she could. Santana led the way. Rachel and Quinn ran hand in hand as Sam tried to help Mercedes. Tina was Mike's problem. People were running around, and there were some mounted officers playing target shooting when they were not beating off the horses. Santana saw an agent pushing a teenager who was about to be raped right there in the middle of the street. She decided to make a courtesy and broke the broom handle on the officer's knee. She continued to lead the group through an alley with exit. Another block overdue. The parallel street had less movement. Santana still had to win at least another one before slowing down. They had to go down the avenue a bit before entering another alley to win the other parallel lane. This place was much calmer than the hell of the march became.

"Where are we?" Tina said almost breathless. She bent and put her hands on her knees. Her stomach ached, her mouth was dry and she was sure to be sick if she continued to run.

"I don't know!" Santana said irritably.

"I can't take it anymore!" Mercedes cried freely. She would never repeat that experience again in her life.

"Cry less and walk more!" Santana responded with incredible insensitivity. She couldn't be condescending. She wanted to scream at Mercedes and Tina for having the brilliant idea of going to a march. She wanted to yell at Quinn and Rachel. She wanted to scream at herself for the crisis of the day before. She should have been harsh and prohibitive with those that were her responsibility. First of all, she had to take the group back to the hotel security. They walked down the street and cut down another parallel avenue. And one last until they managed to find a taxi driver.

"I'm not going to get off!" The driver looked at the teens with apprehension.

"We'll pay double the race, okay?" Santana said softly. "Just get us out of here..."

"I only carry four passengers."

"Ok…" Santana sighed. "Quinn, Rachel, Tina and Mercedes. Go! When I get there, we'll have a talk."

Rachel nodded and looked at the floor. She was sure she and Quinn would be squeezed. Santana, Mike and Sam kept walking. They went down a few more streets until they found another taxi driver standing. Santana looked through the car window. She was tired and frustrated. But most of all, she was relieved to have had the idea of calling the local circle to inquire about the march. Local intelligence said it would be stolen because they had news of students belonging to amateur groups who would infiltrate the march. Santana didn't take more than two minutes to summon Sam and go after the girls.

"You're not going to kill the girls, are you?" Sam tried to relieve some of the tense air inside the cab.

"I'll try not to do so much damage. We have a competition this afternoon..." She glanced at her watch. "Mr, Schue must be stuck. "

When the taxi stopped in front of the hotel with the three remaining members, there was a meeting that in the distance seemed unfriendly from the New Directions. Mr. Schue lost his temper and shouted at the students for such irresponsibility. The situation got worse as the three of them approached. Puck and Finn ran toward the newcomers like bulls.

"I knew you would only hurt her!" Finn pushed Sam.

Puck was less subtle and punched the button's face. Mike immediately tried to contain the ex-Mohican to help his colleague. He knew his friends were committing great injustice. Mr. Schuester, Rachel and Quinn ran to try to break the fight. Santana used what she knew to put Finn on the floor. She felt like Legolas when the elven prince knocked over the elephant. It was the first time she had been able to fight, and very well, in front of members of the choir.

"Stop it!" Schuester snarled. "This fight ends here and now!"

"This guy is bad news. It could only have been he who persuaded the girls to go on a stupid march." Puck raged still held by Schuester. Finn began to rise slowly.

"It's a lie!" Rachel shouted. "Sam and Santana were getting us out of there! If you want a villain, blame me! "

"No... it's my fault!" Mercedes entered the middle. "If you want to hit someone, Puck ... Finn ... then you have to start with me."

Puck pushed Mr. Schuester and walked furiously out of the hotel. Finn got up embarrassed for having caught up with a woman with half his weight, but still held some pose.

"He may not be to blame for this mess," Finn said through gritted teeth to Rachel. "But it's only a sign of his bad influence that you're involved in these things."

"Why don't you shut your mouth?" Santana raged at his colleague. "I get sick of the amount of crap that comes out of it. Nothing good can be expected of an idiot who doesn't reason, yet thinks he is an infallible hero. But you know, Finn Hudson, your hypocrisy makes me angry." Finn advanced on Santana and was restrained by Schuester. She laughed. "You don't have to defend me, Mr. Schue. I can knock this idiot down in ten seconds."

"I want you all in your rooms now... the competition is really ruined..."

"Not so much Mr. Schue." Kurt ran with a cell phone in his hand. "They just announced that the competitions were moved to tomorrow morning because of the blocking in downtown."

"Okay... good..." Schuester said quietly. "My position holds. I want everyone inside the rooms now! Containment regime!"

Santana was the first to leave the hotel courtyard, followed by Rachel. Quinn, who was farther away, also followed them into the room. Mercedes and Tina tried to join their colleagues, but Brittany blocked the entrance of their room.

"You can't help now, okay?" The dancer said calmly.

Mercedes wanted to protest, but Tina pulled her into the girls' other room: what they were staying. Inside what appeared to be a feminine center of buttons, Santana looked at Rachel and Quinn with some dismay. The girls had dirty, sweaty faces, some scratches. She shouldn't be any different. Quinn tried to say something, but Santana raised her finger, silencing her.

"What happened today was nobody's fault." Santana said in a low, composed tone. "But the lesson remains. You are buttons and not stupid rebellious students. You aren't a mass of manoeuvre. You have to be smarter than that. And even if you decide to go in marches, you must at least be ready to run... and know how to run. Like buttons, you have legal assistance, but no one will ever be able to guarantee the safety of anyone inside a police station. Horrible things happen there and you know it."

Quinn and Rachel knew there was no way to challenge the leader because Santana was right. They didn't know how to anticipate the mess or to flee without leadership. Quinn was armoured for such a reality, but Rachel knew several stories of the officers' cruelty over demonstrators at police stations: assaults, torture, and even rape: everything was allowed to 'contain the terrorists.'

"Sorry, San." Quinn was really sorry.

"Look..." Santana softened her voice. "Let's look forward to it, okay. I know you're new to the group, Quinn, and I know there's a lot of frustration in there. But you will have your chance to do de difference, ok? Just be patient."

The leader's body was ground. She grabbed a clean towel and headed toward the bathroom. Brittany smiled at the girls and also entered the room. Rachel sighed and turned the television on a volume a little louder than necessary.

"Are they going to do what I think they're going ... here?" Quinn sat down next to Rachel, who just nodded and then faced her.

"And we'll cover. And god knows how much it will be beneficial if Britt can make San relax. Didn't you see the way she looked at us? She said it wasn't anyone's fault but it wasn't true. I know Santana well enough to catch these nuances. Inside, she wants to kill us. But I don't blame her after today."

"Do you regret it?" Quinn stared at her, then frowned at the louder groan from the bathroom.

"Even though I was almost beaten in that march, I ran like a mad girl and still had to leave one of my favourite coats on the street... No, I don't regret it." She smiled a little. "I had to go through something like that. My parents were militants; you know? I remember helping my father make posters on the floor of our living room. They went to marches for the defense of the civil rights of all, not only of LGBT nature."

"That's nice." Quinn smiled.

"Yeah, it was."

"I also like to have lived through this experience, that is to say, when the agents started beating everybody, it was like a horror movie. But it was quite an experience. I opened my eyes to many other things and am grateful that you were there with me... and San and Sam." Quinn smiled at the similar nicknames.

"Me too…"

"Maybe we can do other things together? Things that are not so scary... someday…"

"Definitely." Rachel smiled.

They heard another loud groan from the bathroom. Rachel sighed, turned on the television, and turned up the volume. "How about you start watching this soap opera?"

Quinn nodded her head and sat on the bed beside Rachel.


	16. Birthday

It's finally Rachel's 18th birthday. And also the last day at school before the winter break. The last time Rachel had a big celebration, Hiram and Leroy were still alive. The Puckerman've never done anything to set the date. At most, Anna gave her a cupcake with a candle on top. Rachel got congratulations from some colleagues and that's it, normal life. Sometimes Rachel dreamed of a party. When she was younger, her parents promoted some: they called the kids from the neighbourhood and school to have a snack with Rachel. They were few, because not all parents allowed their children to go to a party of the daughter of a gay couple. But those who attended, enjoyed plenty of food and games.

The last time Rachel had a party was to celebrate her 10th birthday. After that, things got foggy for the Berry family. But while they were alive, Hiram and Leroy never forgot to celebrate with their daughter. Rachel didn't feel like celebrating her birthday after her parents were killed by the state. When she was 16, Juan, Maribel and Santana organized a dinner with Rachel's favourite dishes. The buttons were invited, but only Kurt and Brittany attended. Rachel remembers the event with special affection: it was at this time that the bonds of friendship between her and Santana narrowed definitively. The special dinner happened again when she turned 17, but only the Lopez family were there.

Looking back, Rachel understood who her friends were. Buttons or not, Santana, Sam and Kurt have always had a special place in her heart. Santana was like a sister, Sam a friend she could always trust, and Kurt was a sweetheart where Rachel could always find a friendly shoulder and a sweet word. She couldn't be more grateful that they were in her life. But the current year made her realize that people she considered friendly might actually be treacherous. And that other people were a lot better than she thought before. Quinn Fabray, for example, had revealed herself to be a caring friend, despite obvious emotional and trusting problems.

Rachel glanced at the calendar hanging on the bathroom door. She turned 18 on that day. The age when she became an adult and the owner of her nose. It also meant that Anna would no longer receive the financial help from the Foster Program. On the other hand, the button would finally have access to the savings left by her parents and the insurance money. The state would keep almost half because of taxes, but still it was good money that would allow her to leave the Puckermans' home with some backing. Ever since the competitions and the incident of the march, Puck hadn't even looked at her in the face, and the coexistence between the two had gone from difficult to unbearable. Rachel knew it was only a matter of days for Anna to drive her out.

"Good morning, Rach!" Brittany hugged her tightly in the middle of the locker room before her athletic training. "Happy Birthday!"

"Thank you!" She smiled.

"And the day came!" Santana came in behind her secret girlfriend. "How are you feeling now that you are almost free do to whatever you want?"

"Almost great." Rachel hug the leader. "How curious. I am now 18, I own my nose, while certain people..."

"Keep dreaming!" If there was something Rachel could play with Santana, it was because she was two months older than the leader.

"Congratulations, Rachel." It was Quinn's turn to hug her. "What are you planning now that you own your nose?"

"Drink, fuck, get out of the house, go on a road trip." Rachel joked with clichéd jokes about being 18.

"What creativity!" Santana mocked. "But if you want, I can think of something very exciting for you to do."

"Like… ride your motorcycle?" Rachel asked hopefully.

"Or invite you to help me to do the housework." Santana smiled.

"How sweet!" Quinn rolled her eyes.

"What's gotten into you to defend Rachel at every opportunity that comes up?" Santana teased, leaving Quinn red.

"Because she likes Rach more than you do." Brittany kissed her girlfriend's cheek, and that was the most they allowed themselves to do in the public domain, especially at school, where there were too many eyes and ears.

"Who told you?" Santana reacted genuinely offended. "Rachel is almost like an annoying sister... after all, she's family."

"Exactly why, baby." Brittany squeezed her girlfriend's hand proudly.

Rachel had a warm heart. It was the first time Santana had referred to her as a family in front of other people. They left the locker room and followed the routine of the day. The training was in the gym with all the teams together because of the first blizzard of the year. There wasn't much to do. The teams did a recreational activity together. They played dodgeball and made small competitions: athletics versus cheerios. Rachel was much better physically and won a race against Quinn and Brittany. However, she was unable to overcome Santana, which was frustrating. Rachel wished she could beat the leader in at least one thing other than achieving a sharp musical note and musical knowledge. In the studies, they matched. At least as far as conventional school subjects were concerned.

She barely left the locker room after the training and was surprised by the other buttons: in short, Sam and Kurt.

"I have something for you." Sam opened his backpack and took out a small package.

Rachel opened the gift wrap as fast as she could. Her smile and eyes widened when he saw a notebook all handcrafted. It was a gift of little material value, but Rachel could see the friend's affection for made it, which included a golden star.

"You're always talking about stars and one day you would like to be one to shine on the stage. So I made this notebook so you can write down things that inspire your own art."

"It's beautiful, Sam." She wiped a tear from her eyes. "I loved it."

"Your gift is not here..." Kurt interrupted the moment.

"It's okay, Kurt. Come here." They hugged each other.

The moment was interrupted by other non-buttons, but that never ceased to be friends. Mercedes, Tina and Mike congratulated Rachel on her birthday, just like two of the boys in the band's choir. The warm reception made Rachel very happy. It was something new: she had never felt so loved. Why did it have to take that long to happen? They said that for everything there is a reason. Whatever the cosmic motifs, at least she was grateful for the instant of acceptance and affection. She went to her locker to store the books and saw a white button. The leader was going talk, which for Rachel was a perfect time. She had things to discuss. Subject number one: getting out of the Puckerman's house as fast as possible.

The last meeting of Glee Club before the break was also the opportunity that Mr. Schuester used to make a small celebration. He thought it would be good to improve the heavy clouds and bring the members closer together. Also he wanted to prizes the best ones in the regional. Best male performance went to Artie. Truth be told: he was the most dedicated among men to the choir. Best female performance went to Santana for the colossal interpretation of the biggest pop star Taylor Swift. It was an obvious choice since she was the soloist. But the MVP award was surprisingly for Brittany. She did all the choreography, suggested Santana's solo and was still the person who most helped in the organization. Not to mention that she and Kurt were the only ones who didn't get directly involved in the fight.

Rachel, in her chair (she was sitting between Sam and Tina) found ironic the photo that Schuester took from the winners. The couple that couldn't be seen in public with the third wheel. Artie wouldn't hide for anyone the he wanted Brittany back. Santana was going crazy with his attempts and counted to 50 not to kill the guy. Still, they all smiled at the photo. Then came the pictures with the whole group.

The meeting with Santana would be six o'clock at Brittany's house. Rachel was surprised that the leader didn't make the meeting at the cave, where they could be completely free to talk anything. They were no longer under the red button. Either way, the time was appropriate so she could solve some particular problems. She had to go to Wes Gilmore's office, the button lawyer who had some pro bono cases on what Rachel was one. Rachel would need help with the necessary documents to enter the inheritance retained by the government.

After went in downtown, Rachel got a bus towards the rich neighbourhood. She walked three blocks under a thin snow. Rang the bell.

"Hi Rach!" Brittany was still in the same happy mood. "Come on! I need to show you something." She pulled her friend by the arm to the pool house.

It was a surprise party. Rachel put her hand to her mouth. It wasn't a buttons surprise party, but of all her friends. There were all the glee club members, including Finn and some of the boys of the jazz band, a few athletic teammates, Anna and Natalie, Mr. Schuester and Miss Pillsbury. Everybody who matters but Puck. Rachel didn't even know who she was holding. Only she was happy. The place was decorated with colourful balloons and even had a cake on the table with the design of a musical note.

The boys of the jazz band didn't have their instruments, in compensation the drummer brought his computer and made some karaoke programming. Each Glee Club member got a chance to pick a song and do their show, including Tina, who rarely was the lead vocal. Everyone sang in honour of Rachel. Finn came to make some impact by singing "Baby I Love Your Way".

That's when Quinn decided to take a chance. She was still hesitant to sing, but after Rachel's discomfort at Finn's unexpected statement, she decided that if she took the stage, she would perhaps minimize such sensation. She whispered something in Sam's ear, and he took the acoustic guitar.

"This is one of the songs I like the most, it's one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard. I know it's a sugary song, but it's one of the things I like to sing when I feel good. That's why I'd like to dedicate it to Rachel Berry. The lyrics of this song is what I want for you with all my heart."

Three notes and Quinn's voice came in.

" _Grew up in a small town/ and when the rain would fall down/ i'd just stare out my window/Dreaming of what could be/ and if i'd end up happy/ i would pray/ trying hard to reach out/ but when i tried to speak out/ felt like no one could hear me/ wanted to belong here/ but felt so wrong here/ so i'd pray/ I could breakaway/ i'll spread my wings and i'll learn how to fly/ i'll do what it takes, till i touch the sky/ make a wish, take a chance/ make a chance and breakaway..._ "

The end of the song was followed by applauses followed by a kiss Rachel gave on Sam's cheek and a tight hug on Quinn. A hug that followed a kiss that Rachel intended to give Quinn's cheek, but which ended by brushing lightly, briefly, on her lips. It was just an awkward move. Anyone who watched could see that. So why did the heart of both accelerate? Why did they feel an electric wave? Rachel broke her embrace and noticed that Quinn's face was red. She herself felt a little warm.

The party went on for a little longer. The cake was cut. The first piece was offered to Anna as recognition for all did for Rachel. The coexistence may have been cold most of the time, but Anna didn't stop caring and looking for the little dreamy diva.

Gradually the guests left the Pierce residence. By ten p.m, only a few of the buttons were there to help with the cleaning. Rachel walked around the irregularly shaped pool (reminiscent of a large grain of beans) and saw Santana sitting on one of the loungers. The leader looked worried though she was texting the cell phone. Rachel decided to sit next to her.

"You'll freeze out here!" Rachel warned. "And you can get sick!"

"Look who's talking..." Santana didn't look away from her cell phone.

"Problems?"

"Maybe. But I don't want to talk about it here and now." She slipped the phone into her coat pocket. She rummaged in her other pocket and took out a small envelope. "It's addressed to you."

"How?" It was a letter from Shelby. "The mailings were only re-authorized this week... and as far as I know, you haven't travelled..."

"I have my ways, dwarf. Haven't you learned yet?" Santana pointed to the unobtrusive remark of just delivering the letter on December 18th.

"As far as I know the rules, you can't be in possession of a correspondence." Santana nodded. "Don't you think you've been breaking protocols too much?"

"Bitch, I'm the top dog in a circle. If some rules need to be broken, then this service should be mine and no one else's!"

"Ok ..." Rachel looked once more at the envelope that had an object inside. She opened it carefully and found a letter and a pen drive.

" _Dear Rachel,_

 _I was greedy to give you a birthday present, but I still know so little about your preferences. I believe, however, that we should take every opportunity to get to know ourselves the best we can before our meeting. So I thought of something different, a message I recorded on this pen drive._

 _I love you,_

 _Shelby_ "

"Your mother go straight to the point." Santana didn't have the slightest modesty to read the message. "You can open the file on Mr. Pierce's computer if you like. Just ask for it."

"Do you want to see it with me?"

"You should see it first by yourself. If it's worth it, if it's fun at least, then you show it before deleting the information."

"Should I delete the file?"

"Prudence commands, but you can do it later... maybe…"

Rachel nodded. Mr. Pierce willingly agreed to give way one of the computers in the house so that Rachel could attend to such a message. The button went to the library, where it had a computer that was used by Brittany's younger sister, clicked on the video file and the program opened. Shelby appeared in front of a camera. She was smiling. Rachel didn't believe how beautiful her mother was.

"Hi Rachel!" The dark-haired brunette spoke on the screen and Rachel immediately fell in love with her voice: it was sweet and determined at the same time. "I don't know how to make speeches. Cameras make me nervous... that's why I prefer theatre. Still, I decided that the best gift I could give you was a song…"

Shelby climbed onto a stage where a bald man stood at the piano. Then she began to sing "Hello Dolly!", Louis Armstrong's classic song in the version sung by Barbra Streisand in the film of the same name. Suddenly, what appeared to be a solo performance, turned into a choir-filled show done by what appeared to be Shelby's students. It even had choreography. Rachel was laughing at the same time she was crying. Among all the good gifts she received on the 18th anniversary of her life, that was the best one.

…

"I swear, Berry, I'm going to kill you!"

Santana was screaming in despair. Rachel used the orange button to make an official collective request: she called the circle to record a video she could send to Shelby. It was a way of thanking and, at the same time, showing Shelby how much Rachel was also talented. Everyone had free days because of the break, so it wouldn't hurt to book a day to help a fellow button. The problem was Rachel's perfectionism.

"But San, you got in the wrong time. The choreography is clear: you have to give your cheerio leap after you enter the orchestra, not before. Otherwise it looks like the Rayovac's bunny has invaded my clip!"

"Bunny is..." Santana was restrained in advancing up to Rachel and had her mouth covered by Matt, who was holding himself so he wouldn't laughter.

The others were also relaxed. Seban had fun as a cameraman and he was aided by Sam, who no longer thought to hold a stick with a microphone hanging so much fun. The others: Santana, Quinn, Matt, Kurt, Blaine and Brittany did choreographies and the chorus while Rachel interpreted in all genius, her words, "It's Oh So Quiet". It was almost three hours working on the filming in the basement of Brittany's house.

"All right, everybody back to the starting positions." Rachel screamed like a real movie director.

"Bathroom first!" Brittany ran to the restroom.

"I hope it's not number two!" Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Bitch, my girl wouldn't do such a thing here and now." The noise that came from the toilet contradicted the leader who soon blushed.

"She ate too many nuts." Quinn comforted as she tried to control her laughter.

"At least I can sit down a little..." Sam threw himself on the couch.

"Do you still have this camera on?" Rachel noticed that Seban was passing each one with his digital camera pointed.

"It's for the making off!"

"No one's going to do a making off about Britt's going to the bathroom." Santana raged and chuckled.

Brittany came out of the toilet with a smile of relief on her face. Kurt caught a spray of perfume without the slightest ceremony. It was one of those cheap strong perfumes that made Blaine sneeze. Another ten minutes of confusion and swearing until, after a necessary pause for the water, they were again in position to shot. Rachel screamed "action" and Kurt turned on instrumental playback. The camera began with a close-up on Rachel as she slowly walked away.

" _It's oh so quiet/ it's oh so still/ You're all alone/ And so peaceful until..._ "

And cut!

Seban would edit the material. In the middle of the celebration, Santana received a phone call. Rachel saw when Santana answered with the device that had a safe line, which meant an official emergency. She frowned. It wasn't the first time Santana was running for some reason, but that didn't mean she can't worry every time.

Santana barely say goodbye to the circle and was already riding her bike. The newcomers Sam and Quinn looked questioning at the sudden exit. Rachel and Matt looked at each other and felt the need to explain, after all, in Santana's absence, they were the leaders.

"It happens sometimes." Matt forced a smile. "Santana is also a member of more inner circles. Sometimes she is called to participate in things that we don't know much about."

"Like terrorist activity?" Quinn's eyes widened and Rachel placed a hand on her shoulder.

"It depends on your definition of terrorism. If it's that classic extremist who kills and get killed because of a belief clothed in intolerance, well, I assure you that's not the case. The Buttons aren't extremist assassins, Quinn. There are some radical groups that operate in the country, but these aren't us. Now if you take as terrorism any action that opposes this fascist state, well, then we all are."

"Actually, no one is more terrorist than our own government," Sam snapped. "I don't know what Santana really does, but whatever it is, I bet it's no worse than these guys do to us. I wish I was in Santana's place and have some real action."

"And don't we?" Kurt snapped. "Look, I don't even know why Santana summoned me, but since I've become a button, all I have is real action. My relationship with Blaine is proof of that. Only the effort you all make to protect us is proof of that. "

"It's jusy that Sam and Quinn are newcomers" Seban said, and everyone paid attention because it was very rare for him to come out in an argument. "There is work for everyone. You're the popular action guy, indeed, but if nothing happened so far, it's because you're not ready. And your bravery is a sign of that. You should have your head in place, and study more."

"Actually..." Matt took the word. "Santana was arguing with me about the social activities that each of us will do as buttons. We will distribute these tasks soon. Santana wants some of you to do volunteer work at least once a week, to feel something else and do something about it. Especially you, Quinn."

"But what about me?" Sam asked.

"There are things you need to learn, Sam. Being involved with popular movements is the most complicated task. It's like going to the front. You have to prepare yourself physically and mentally to kill or be killed. There are buttons who are dedicated to this kind of training."

"But when?" Sam was anxious.

"Your impatience only proves our point that you need to learn, even to wait."

"What about me?" Rachel asked.

"I'm not sure, Rach. Santana just said it was time for you to start jumping more buildings, whatever that means. "

At the end of the day, Rachel decided to go back home with Sam, who said he would drop by at his house to get a Christmas present he'd promised his friend. They put on the thick coats, gloves, and Sam tried to steer the moped with the utmost care because of the slippery road. He shifted the tires to the snow ones, yet all care was short. They arrived at Sam's house and found Mrs. Evans fixing dinner. Stevie and Stacy, Sam's younger brothers, were excited about Christmas eve and all the gifts Santa Clause could bring to them (usually were just cheap toys, but they use to love it anyway).

"I'm glad you're here, Samuel." Mrs. Evans looked at the pair entering the kitchen. "So you'll help me keep an eye on this goddamned duo."

"Of course!" Sam picked up his brother and tossed it over his shoulders, as if the little one were a sack of potatoes. Stacy didn't want to miss the game and clung to her older brother's legs.

Rachel smiled at the siblings' interaction. She shook her head and walked toward Mrs. Evans.

"I can help you?"

"Oh, darling. I'm good here. Maybe you can just pick up the tomato paste in the pantry. I'm making spaghetti today." She pointed to the desired doors.

"Okay!" Rachel took a domestic staircase, opened the doors of the really small pantry, and saw that everything was well organized. It would be easy to put things in the right places.

"Are you coming to spend Christmas with us?"

"I still don't know..." Rachel smiled at the idea and was flattered by the invitation. "I have spent Christmas at Santana Lopez's house for some years now."

"Santana Lopez? Isn't the Santana Lopez part of the Glee Club?"

"The one! We're close friends... She's temperamental, but she's a great person."

"I think so. Sammy just says good things about this gang of yours. I'm glad he has a good group of friends." She heard giggles from the room. "I just hope those three don't get hurt..."

Sam continued to play with his younger siblings. It was a fun, playful and even inspiring image. It was when Rachel's cell phone rang, and so Sam's. Rachel looked at the message in code and opened her eyes wide. She looked at the Evans and tried not to panic at the emergency, but how to warn them? Rachel spent those restless seconds until she fired.

"We need to get out of here!" She shouted, catching the attention of Sam and Mrs. Evans as well as the kids.

"What?" Mrs. Evans was confused. "Do you need to leave?"

But it was late. The alarm was triggered too late for them. The bell rang. Sam took the kids off him and got up to answer despite Rachel's protests. When he opened it he had the unpleasant surprise of finding two agents with a paper at hand.

"Samuel Evans lives here?"

"It's me." Sam went ahead, trying to be a barrier to protect his family.

"You're under arrest for illegal activities against the government." The officer was immediately pushing him against the wall and handcuffing him.

The woman and children in the house began to scream in despair. But not Rachel, who tried to stay calm. An agent showed a document of search and apprehension, which in practice was an authorization to mop up everything, and if by chance he found something interesting, like a weapon, to be seized as evidence. But those agents could not distinguish a legal author from an answering philosopher. As long as they fulfilled the arrest warrant, it was all right for both of them.

The officer told Sam to get on his knees and head down. And then he went to Rachel.

"What's your name, miss?"

"Rachel Berry."

He smiled uneasily and took another handcuff.

"Well well! Isn't my lucky day? Take two birds with one stone?"

He grabbed the young woman and turned her against the wall. Rachel didn't react. She needed to stay calm to not make the matters worse. The officer pressed her against the wall and gave her a prison sentence, handcuffed her, and began to pat her. Sam saw stars, and even handcuffed, went up to the agent, who was taken by surprise. But the counterattack was immediate: amidst the shouting, the officer pulled the baton and hit him hard on his head. Blood drained and Sam collapsed in the floor. Mrs. Evans screamed and so the two smaller children in her arms. The agent looked at a trembling Rachel and unceremoniously reached for her hand under her skirt. Rachel looked to the side, she was angry. It wasn't possible that she would be raped right there in front of that lady and children. She tried to fight the tears, but they kept falling. Especially when he sensed the agent pulling her panties aside, roughly stroking her sex, and Rachel tried to lock herself down in an attempt to keep an unwanted finger from invading her easily. That didn't happen, though. The agent took his hand away and smiled.

"Apparently you're not hiding anything, but we'll examine it better at the police station. God knows the absurd things that sluts often hide inside this pussy and ass. "

"There's nothing here. The house is clean." The other agent came back into the rooms after rolling the whole house away only by the destruction itself.

"But these two are bound. They're on the list."

An agent pushed Rachel into the car and then returned for a still fainting, wounded Sam. Rachel was terrified by the darkness inside the van. There was a narrow window in which the officers could see them and vice versa, but it was mostly a dark and muffled place. She was alone in her body clothes, without a purse, without a cell phone, and was afraid she wouldn't be able to call for help. The fear of being raped as soon as she got to the police station was also great. It would be even worse to see his friend being killed. In all these years as a Button, she has never been arrested. She faced many risky situations, but never had her name decreed in an act of arrest. Sam started moaning in her lap and Rachel didn't know if this was a relief or a problem. The truth was that Sam needed a hospital and she knew the agents wouldn't have such sensitivity.

The ride lasted forever until the car stopped. Rachel tried to look out the narrow window and thought correctly that they had arrived at the police station. Sam rolled his eyes and moaned. The agents opened the door of the van and dragged he out first. Then a third agent grabbed Rachel by the arm and pulled her into the building. Not that she would offer any resistance. Upon entering the police station, they were criminally enrolled and thrown into a cell that, to their surprise were also Mercedes, Tina, Mike and Quinn. No sign of Santana. That's when Rachel connected the dots: all the ones who went to the protest march were there. Which also meant that someone from the Glee club was the informant.

Without the handcuffs, Rachel could catch a glimpse of Sam, who was already awake.

"What..." He said weakly.

"Be quiet, okay?" She examined the wound. He didn't seem to have broken anything, but the skin was torn and Sam would need to take some stitches.

"Is he okay?" Mike tried to help Rachel. It was the quietest thing in front of the other girls, who were tearful.

"I don't know. I think so. But he needs a doctor."

"You think..." Mercedes tried to ask.

"That we're here because of that damn march?" Rachel raged. "It's a possibility."

"Rachel... forgive me," Quinn said through sobs. "I was the one who put you in this situation."

"You didn't force me into anything, Quinn. Now, listen here: you know what it is, so stop whining!" Rachel's voice was pure command, which surprised the others. Especially since Quinn did respond.

"They haven't caught up with Santana yet," Tina observed.

"I doubt they will," Rachel said softly, only to herself.

An officer entered the cell area accompanied by a tall, strong man and another with a nicer suit. Rachel met the strongest one for the first time from the occasion she needed to jump between buildings. It was Wes Gilmore. The second was none other than Congressman Pierce, Brittany's father. Rachel's presence there meant that the subject was solved. An agent unlocked the cells and freed all. Tina, Mike, and Mercedes were nervous the most with all that, which was natural, but Rachel motioned for Quinn to be silent and obeyed.

In the reception room the kids met Tina, Mike, Mercedes and Sam's parents. Nobody was there for Rachel and Quinn. After some clarification and the bail paid, Wes Gilmore said that they were all free, but their police record would remain. It meant that any other passage by the police, even for the smallest offense, they would have to respond in jail. There was another meaning for it: having a police record was indicative that any chance to enter college was further reduced. It was terrible news for someone like Tina, Mercedes and Mike. Not so much for Rachel, who really dreamed was to get out of that country.

Sam's parents supported the young man who still needed walking support and would certainly take him to the hospital. Rachel didn't want to join them because she knew he was in the best hands. She looked at Quinn, who was alone, but Mr. Pierce put his arm around her shoulders and held her. Gilmore was the one who took care of Rachel. He told her to go with him. Only then, in the safety of the vehicle, she had the courage to ask.

"What about Santana?"

"Lopez is on the run."

"What did she do?"

Gilmore pursed his lips and turned on the ignition of his car.

"I'll leave you at your foster' house. I'll wait for you to get down, pick up some belongings, and then I'll drop you off at the house of someone in your circle who is not Lopez, Evans, or Fabray."

"Do you know my circle?"

"Everyone in this town knows Santana Lopez's circle." He gave a half-smile.

As they entered the street, Gilmore parked in front of the Puckerman's house without Rachel needing to give him directions. He followed her to the door and Rachel opened it. They entered and saw Anna comforting Natalie for some reason while Puck was sitting on the couch in his now-usual brown T-shirt. Besides, everything seemed to be in place.

"Have the agents come here?" Rachel was even more nervous.

"You said you'd never bring trouble into this house," Anna said through her teeth. "But you brought it. And if it weren't for Noah, something much worse would have happened."

"The agents searched the house?" Rachel immediately regretted asking the question.

"So you know!" Puck stood up and walked over to his friend who looked angry. "Who is this guy?

"Wes Gilmore." The lawyer held out his hand to Puck. "I'm Miss Berry's lawyer, and you are?"

"I was arrested in Sam's house..." Rachel muttered to Puck. "You must be happy now."

"You're not so innocent, are you... Berry?" His voice was heavy with irony and hatred.

"Get your things and please get away from this house!" Anna said bitterly.

Rachel looked at the Puckerman family who once she loved. She hardly believed that Anna had made her a birthday cake two days ago. Now she was driving her out of the house. Rachel knew it would come out anyway and soon, but she never imagined it would be that way. Rachel nodded and started to cry because it was a painful farewell. She spent four years living with these people after all. She went down to the basement and when she saw her bedroom she was not surprised that everything was twisted and broken.

Rachel picked up a backpack, some bags and gathered some of the clothes on the floor. She looked for the book in which she kept Shelby's pictures. At least the memories were still there. She took out documents, her little bag of buttons, things, and some photographs. She left the rest behind. Went upstairs. After all, she gave a thank you speech for the family to have housed her for so many years. Crying, she walked out the front door with Wes Gilmore.

It began to snow.

"I don't know who can shelter me. "

"In this case, I suggest the person with the highest hierarchy."

"Matt ... he's the one with the highest ranking next to me and after Santana."

Gilmore nodded and lent his cell phone to Rachel. Rachel got in touch with her friend and didn't have to explain much about what happened. She thanked Gilmore again and looked gloomily at the Puckerman's house. It didn't have to end like that.


	17. Christmas

A ray of sun hit Rachel's face from a different angle than she was used to. It came from a large window on the right of the bed. The room itself had simple, almost Spartan decor: pastel-colored wallpaper and dark wood furniture: a small cabinet, a chest of drawers and a double bed. Usually Rachel would get her robe and go to her own tiny bathroom. But that wasn't a normal situation. Before morning hygiene, she had to get dressed first. She picked up her new toothbrush (the old woman was forgotten at the Puckerman's house) and headed for a different bathroom. She saw the door slightly open and pushed it away. Then she spotted Jimi, Matt's younger brother, naked. She turned around screaming apologetically. She spent years with her own bathroom and never had to check whether it was busy or not.

"Rachel?" Matt left his bedroom.

"I just caught Jimi naked in the bathroom, but I didn't want to, I swear!"

Jimi himself left the bathroom quickly, dressed in a towel around his waist.

"Jimi, sorry, I was sleepy. I should have paid more attention."

"Rach, calm down! It was nothing!" The younger man smiled. "I don't care if a pretty girl catches me in the bathroom once in a while. If you wanted, you might have stayed." He blinked and went to his own room.

"Unbelievable!" Matt shook his head. Jimi was a 15-year-old hormonal boy who had had his first sex relationship only a short time ago, and, like every kid who had just lived the first experience, Jimi felt like the owner of the world.

"I guess I..." Rachel was still stunned.

"It was nothing. You saw him naked and he still thought it was great. Nothing more. You can use the bathroom without any problems, okay?"

Rachel nodded. The bathroom in question was flooded with the shower. Not to mention the mess of clothes under the basket when they should be inside it. There were pairs of underwear hanging on the hooks. This was a nightmare. She tried to think that everything was only temporary, like a mantra she'd repeated dozens of times in thought. Rachel went downstairs still blushed from the incident, and it became worse when she saw the big raspy smile on Jimi's face.

The Rutherfords' was a two floors house in a low middle-class neighbourhood. Mr. Rutherford's coffee shop made good money to the family for its popularity and commitment to the quality they always maintained, even in times of recession when there were some products missing from the supermarket shelves. Despite the simplicity, everything was very cozy in that house, which was specially decorated for Christmas, with a colourful tree armed in the corner. Rachel was very fond of this part of the festivities. Matt's parents didn't object to house Matt's old friend. It would be cruel to forsake someone in Christmas. Rachel knew that things would only stay that way if she stayed for a little while, at most until the new year.

"Coffee?" Asked Mr. Rutherford, the city's best barista.

"Please!" Rachel forced a smile as she was served.

"Matt said you came out of the foster program." Mrs. Rutherford commented casually, and it was obvious they would ask questions.

"As I turned 18, the Puckerman's no longer have that financial compensation for the foster program. They had no more reason to keep me around anyway," She said bitterly. "On the other hand, I can now redeem my parents' money that was withheld by the government. I'll have enough to rent an apartment for a year or two. Of course I'll get some work to keep going. But it's very complicated to deal with real estate or anything else at this holiday season."

"True!" Mr. Rutherford glanced over the paper. "My brother is a realtor and he's going to stop for the week, to only starts working after New Year's Day. In fact, I can talk to him if he can see something that might be interesting to you, Rachel. Something that fits in your budget. Do you think living alone or sharing the rent?"

"I haven't thought of these details yet, sir. I have a friend who lives alone and maybe she might want to share expenses. But I haven't met her yet to talk about it."

"Speaking of which," Matt interrupted. "How do you feel about us meeting the gang today for a get-together?" He spoke in a tone where she could only say yes. The knobs needed to gather after the tragic events of the previous day.

"Of course! It will be cool."

Gathering buttons was a task if Santana, not them without a direct order from the leader. The problem was that Santana had disappeared from the map. Rachel finished her breakfast, offered to help with the dishes and then went back to her room and searched the cell phone until she remembered that it was lost somewhere in Sam's house. She regretted that she had begun to miss the cell phone. She needed to call Sam and ask how her friend was. Matt lent a cell phone so Rachel could calm down.

" _Matt?_ " Rachel smiled at his voice.

"Hi Sam, it's Rachel."

" _What are you doing with Matt's cell phone?_ "

"Long story that doesn't matter now. How are you?"

" _Improving. My parents took me to the hospital and I got five stitches in my head. But it's alright. I'm medicated and I don't feel that much pain anymore._ "

"I'm sorry, Sam. I wish I had the warning sooner. But when the message came, it was too late. "

" _It was like that for everyone, right?_ "

"Yeah... How did your parents react? How did your father react? They are well?"

" _My father said that he panicked when he came home and found everything turned upside down with my mother desperate hugging my siblings. When they ran to the police station, they were surprised to see that they had a lawyer in charge of the case. Well, they were so relieved that they didn't ask me too many questions yet. But I know they will, Rach! What do I do?_ "

"Tell me part of the truth: that Congressman Pierce has met a request from his daughter to rescue friends."

" _Only that?_ "

"The key to being believed is to tell part of the truth from another perspective and without much detail. Brittany is our friend and that's it. She must have been informed of her friends somehow and asked her father to help. End of chat."

" _You can be very pragmatic sometimes._ "

"It is necessary in such cases. Look Sam... I just wanted to know how you were and let you know that I'm here at Matt's house for a while. Oh, and you can check if my cell phone is in your house?"

" _Of course! Why are you at Matt's?_ "

"Because the Puckerman kicked me out and Matt house me in."

" _What?_ " Sam snarled surprised on the phone. " _Did Puck have the nerve to kick you out after all?_ "

"It would happen anyway, Sam."

" _Don't say that, Rach. That scumbag deserves a punch!_ "

"Puck may deserve a punch, but it won't be you who will give it, okay? The last thing we need now is more problems."

" _Rach..._ "

"Things will be right."

Rachel hung up the phone and sighed. She had a sense of emptiness, of those who had things to do, but no desire to do anything at all. Rachel wanted to lie down in bed and cry all day, through the invasive approach of the officer who nearly raped her in the act of prison, the violence of the prison itself, the denunciation made by colleagues just because they went to a march that went wrong, because the Puckerman family expelled her after years of good cohabitation most of the time. Her situation was almost hopeless, but she couldn't fall apart.

Rachel didn't even have time to think about wanting to cry all day, because Matt's cell phone rang. It was Santana. Rachel was tempted to answer, but she preferred to respect and seek her friend doing it, and luckily Matt was in the same room. With a small smile, he thanked her friend and answered the phone. Then he frowned.

"What did she want?" Rachel was curious.

"She just gave me an address and told us to hurry."

"Everyone?"

"She wants only you and me."

Rachel straightened herself up as fast as she could. She put on her gloves, her thick coat, and her bonnet. Ten minutes by car and they entered in the elite neighbourhood of Lima. They drove a little further until they found the street indicated by Santana. They were surprised when they realized that a Catholic church was working there. That couldn't be right. They stopped in the parking lot and Rachel called to the leader.

"San, the address you gave is a church..."

"There is an entrance on the side that goes to the priest's office. I'm waiting for you there."

Rachel looked at Matt, finding that story very strange. But they obeyed. There was a side door beyond those that led to the parish hall. It was open. Matt and Rachel came in and as it was said, Santana was there. They found the leader with their backs to them, looking at an image of Jesus Christ. Santana was a Catholic, even though she hadn't been in a church for a long time. She turned to her friends and revealed puffy eyes, a tired expression and slightly larger lips.

"San..." Rachel realized that her friend didn't have an easy night. Well, not her or any of those who had a forced visit to the police station. Regardless, Rachel walked up to the leader and hugged her tightly.

"I need to show you both something..."

Santana took a deep breath and asked the two of them to follow her to a ladder leading to the basement. They entered a kind of rustic chapel. Behind the altar was a camouflaged door, in which it was necessary to look very well to distinguish it from the wall. Santana pointed to the mechanism similar to the elevator panel that gave access to the common room of the Buttons and inserted her own metallic button and entered a password that released a second panel for biometric reading of the iris. Just then the camouflaged door opened.

Rachel and Matt were impressed by the large, rich lounge. A much more exquisite than the communal room with access in the basement behind the pizzeria. It was a place with baroque decor with a large coffee table. On the sides and at the back were bookshelves full of books. So many that it seemed they had entered an old library of an 18th-century university. It was incredible.

"Santana..." Matt was speechless.

"Welcome to the place where the big buttons of this city meet."

"But you..." Rachel tried to ask, but she didn't know exactly what.

"Look, I don't have much time for explanations. Are you going in or not?"

The trio advanced and found Congressman Pierce and Wes Gilmore arguing against the table. Also acknowledged were Judge Gabriel Bangs, Father George Goldino, head of the parish, and Stan Cain, one of the great industrialists in the country. To their surprise, Reynolds Fields, school's football coach, met the teen trio.

"Welcome to the second seat of the buttons," Reynolds told Matt and Rachel.

"This is ... incredible!" Rachel was slow to speak.

"Haven't you talked to them yet, San?" Reynolds said sternly.

"No... well, behind the shelves has a comfortable sofa set. We can go there to talk."

Rachel was scared and excited at the same time. Frightened that Santana was more serious than usual and not just because of her exhausted face. Excited because the place was incredible and not to mention that knowing that thirst that until then had only heard, meant that she had grown in importance among the buttons. They saw the sofa set luxurious and very comfortable. The decor of the space was beautiful. Matt and Rachel occupied the two-seater sofa while Santana sat in the chair and leaned forward.

"I'm going to leave the country tomorrow!" Santana fired, and Rachel and Matt's heart almost came out.

"What do you mean tomorrow?" Rachel snarled. "You can't leave us!"

"It was planned that I leave the country until May, but there were some complications. I can't talk openly about it, but let's just say that my college will be a little different and will be out of this country." Santana stared at Rachel. "I'm going east, Rach."

"To the East?" Rachel forced a smile, but she was already in tears. It was the dreamed East she longed for: it was the meaning of a free world, of opportunities, from where one could develop a career in the arts and be taken seriously. It was to the side where the frontier was the most closed, where there were no commercial flights directed, it wasn't possible to cross the frontier by car or by any transport. It was necessary to take a chance on the mountains also highly guarded on both sides. More people die than they are successful, but Santana is apparently going to come in through the front door.

"Maybe I..." Santana wiped her tears. "Anyway. With me out of this scheme I need to pass the hat. Matt, you are now the leader of the circle and Rach is your first. Of course this won't be for long. In six months, most of you will finish school and most of your circle will be in new circles more targeted the characteristics of each. Well, Reynolds is the guy who organizes this part of the smaller circles and he will know how to guide you when the time comes..." Santana paused to control herself. She was struggling for emotion not to take care of herself. "Rach, you should soon receive the official call to continue part of my work. Both of you, actually. Then you'll be able to learn more about button organization, the complexity it is... maybe you'll take on some new functions. Of course you will be trained for such first."

"This is not happening..." Rachel wanted to be more influential. But not that way. Which she wanted Santana herself to introduce her to the new circles.

"You'll be fine." Santana forced a smile. "Well, I have to give you some things so you better do it soon. Keep an eye on Quinn. She still hurt, that's why she's in a more rebellious way... she's important, you know? And it is very likely that she will be the next of us to leave this country for her own safety. Seban is the best hacker I know and he loves to help. Make he feel necessary that you will have a motivated ally for whatever comes and goes. Don't worry too much about Kurt and Blaine. By the second order, they reached their maximum within the organization. Same with Brittany."

"What about Sam?" Rachel was curious.

"He is faithful to the cause and will progress in his time. He just needs patience to learn about our system." Rachel nodded. Santana took a piece of paper from her coat and handed it to Rachel. "Yesterday was a very strange day. I received this urgent call and when I came back to my home, I found everything turned upside down and my parents were very scared. I couldn't say goodbye to them. I just said things were going to be okay. I hugged my parents and left the house with some clothes." Santana stopped talking to control her own emotions. "Rachel, because you're the closest to my family and because they love you, I wanted you to hand this letter over to them." She took a deep breath to hold back the sobbing once more. "My room has some quirks that the agents have not figured out, and since I know you're going to get confused, I've made a map." She handed Rachel another piece of paper. "I put it on yellow paper because it's the attention signal and it'll be easy for you to relate."

"Is that it?" Matt frowned.

"This is my last mission to Rachel. I know you, Rach. I know you will know what to do." Santana was no longer crying. "Oh, I wanted you to continue training. Talk to Marcus. Tell him it was a wish of mine. It is important for you to continue to learn self-defense."

"I can't believe this is happening, San." Rachel knelt before the now-former leader and hugged her tightly.

"I'll try to use the mail as soon as I can, okay? Over time, we can communicate on the safe lines." Santana stroked Rachel's hair.

"Lopez!" Reynolds caught the young woman's attention. She looked at the mentor and nodded.

"It's time for me to go..." She cleared her throat. "Just tell the others that I'm gone. Say... I don't know... make up something beautiful. And tell Brittany that I love her more than anything. "

She got up and walked over to Rachel and Matt, hugging Rachel out of the hall.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Santana Lopez." Matt kissed her cheek as he hugged her. "You were a formidable leader and I'll do everything I can to not let you down."

"If you do, I'll pull your ear when you get back... someday!" Santana laughed and turned to Rachel.

Rachel did the same as Matt, but the hug between the two was longer and more longer.

"I love you, San."

"I love you too, Rach. I'm sure we'll see each other soon!"

The new leader and new first looked back one last time before go upstairs escorted by Reynolds. Santana was paying for the price of a decision that took on greater proportions. The march was a terrible move. But she didn't regret letting the commanders be responsible for her own actions. The lesson would also be for all of them.

Rachel and Matt left the church without receiving a password. In the language of the buttons it meant that they were only invited there once. They didn't care. It was too painful to be deprived of the company of a great friend. They got home and Rachel went straight to the guest room. She didn't feel like talking to anyone, so she stayed there for the rest of the day. It was the saddest Christmas in her life.


	18. Santana's files

Rachel stayed five minutes in front of the Lopez house. She glanced at her watch once more. It was three o'clock in the afternoon. By now, Santana must have been treading on foreign lands. Rachel could see some movement inside the house, and she was looking for courage to face the family and deliver Santana's note. She respected the leader, or rather former leader, or better yet, one of the great friends she had, and didn't read what was written.

"Rach..." Matt caught her attention. "It's better do it at once."

They walked to the door and didn't have to knock. Juliet, Santana's older sister, opened the door and didn't seem happy to see the two young adults.

"What do you want?" Juliet said with some anger. Juliet was taller than Santana. More plump too. Other than that, her eyes were rounder and clearer (she inherited them from Maribel).

"I need to talk to your parents."

"It's not time, brat."

"It's about Santana!"

Juliet frowned and gave way to her sister's bestfriend and the other one.

"Who's it, Juli?" Juan went downstairs. His lips were cut off. "Oh, Rach. And... Matt, right?" The boy nodded. "What have you been doing here?"

"They said it's about Santana." Juliet fired. "I hope there's a good excuse for that idiot to have run away from home! In fact, there is: she's a thug like I always said to you, Dad."

"Can you call Maribel?" Rachel asked calmly, ignoring Juliet's insult. "This concerns both..."

"Maribel is in her room. Whatever it is, talk to me. "

"Santana asked me to hand this over to you." Rachel held out the letter and Juan caught it gently.

"When were you with her?"

"Two days ago, sir. Before she left the country."

"Why did she run away? She showed up here at home after the agents came up with a search warrant and seizure just to turn my house around. Then she just to get some clothes and says she needs to leave. No explanation. Anything. If you know anything, say it!" Juan was nervous.

"Sir, I haven't read the letter, but I expect it to explain things here."

"But you know!" The man was about to grab Rachel's shoulders.

"We don't know what happened to Santana, sir." Rachel began softly. "What I do know is that all of our classmates who went to the march have been duped. Hence the search and arrest warrant. I was arrested too, sir, and the Puckerman's kicked me out after that. I'm living with Matt for a while. "

"Are you telling me that all this was caused because you and Santana went to a stupid march? "

"I went to the march. Santana came to get me out of there." Rachel closed her eyes for a few seconds before turning back to face Juan. "It was the price she paid to protect me. But Pierce's lawyer solved everything. As to the reason she had to flee, I don't know how to explain it, but I'm sure she'll elucidate something in that letter."

"I knew nothing good would come of that girl." Juliet raged, but it was more of despair and confusion than of actually rage. She loved her sister and was still very impressed by the scenes she witnessed days ago.

"Is that all, Rachel?" Juan tried to control himself.

"Yes sir."

"Ok..." He went to the front door and opened it. "Thank you for your consideration."

Rachel and Matt went back to the car. Rachel took a deep breath. It was less bad than she'd expected.

"Let's call the circle?"

"Yeah, but not now. I have to stop by Sam's house to get my cell phone."

"Okay..." Matt started the ignition of the car.

"Matt."

"Hmm?"

"Do you think we'll handle replacing Santana?"

"We'll only know when we start putting our hands in the dough. Tomorrow we will meet everyone, tell what happened and from then on, it will be another story."

…

Much as Rachel was grateful for the Rutherford family's welcome, the few days she spent there were enough to start making her extremely uncomfortable. Rachel was a guest, that is, a nuisance. It was something she could feel on the skin on that particular date: it was Mr. Rutherford's birthday, and here she was like a strange element in the midst of a family party. In the middle of her morning jog (she was accustomed to training, now that she was an athletics team), she decided she needed to get out of that house as fast as possible.

Rachel ran back to the middle-class neighbourhood just in time for the family to start such a special lunch. She sat at the table with the others. Mr. Rutherford said his thanksgiving and everyone enjoyed a great meal. They drank wine, Jimi and Matt told funny stories about the school they studied. Mrs. Rutherford was teasing Rachel with embarrassing stories about when they were both children. Like the time when five-year-old Matt felt like going to the bathroom, but he didn't want to leave the playground. Until he couldn't stand it and made the number two in own his pants and returned home, which was almost next door, walking like lizard.

Then Rachel's cell phone rang. The number was unknown.

"Hello?"

" _Hi Rach, I have little time to talk._ " It was Santana's voice, which made Rachel's heart pound. " _Just to let you know I'm in the East and I'm fine._ "

"Okay, I understood... thank you." She made a tremendous effort to appear casual before the family watching her. "Ah, yesterday I delivered the letter to your parents."

" _You wouldn't let me down. Thanks. I have to turn off. When I can, I'll contact you again._ "

"San..." When Rachel was going to try to say something else, the phone hung up. It was so fast she even doubted if she actually spoke to Santana.

Rachel was happy and with an edge of envy: Santana was able to leave that miserable country. Not that Santana had this desire as strong as Rachel, but she managed to leave. On the other hand, why would she call just to say she's okay? Everyone knew how many international phone calls were risky, especially all those who went to or came from the Eastern Country. The government monitored this traffic and it was very difficult to circumvent such control. Rachel was sure that Santana would never do this if she had not discovered a 100% safe way. But apparently it wasn't a way that would allow much time for conversation or she would have said something better than to warn that she was fine and that would communicate again someday.

Rachel looked at the family still celebrating the patriarch's birthday and sighed.

The meeting with the other buttons was scheduled for the afternoon after lunch. Matt was eager to introduce himself for the first time as a leader. He expected strong reactions. That's why he had the unconditional support of Rachel. The girl wasn't going to steal the spot from being next to the new leader and officially take the position of the first. But when he was getting ready, he got the call from another unknown number.

"San?" Her heart raced.

"Rachel? No! "It was a male voice on the other side. "This is Juan. I think we need to talk."

"Of course..." Rachel was surprised by the phone call from Santana's father. "When?"

"This afternoon here at home, could it be?" There would be agenda conflict. The reason could be for her to fulfill the commitment to buttons above anything, but that was Juan Lopez and there was the call from Santana. Maybe it wasn't coincidence at all. What the hell!

"Around three?"

"Perfect. I'll be waiting for you."

Now it was Rachel's turn to be anxious. She talked to Matt who didn't accept her absence very well. He knew, however, that the commander wouldn't obey him. He was kind enough to leave her in front of the Lopez' home before heading to the meeting place with the other buttons. Rachel was looking at the house differently. She knew her friend was fine. Now was the time to hit what was left loose.

She walked to the house where she was more than familiar. She rang the bell and was answered a minute later by Juan himself. The doctor freed the way for the girl.

"Can we talk in the garage, if you don't mind? Maribel and Juliet are upstairs and I don't want to be bothered. "

"Allright Sir!"

Juan leaned against the old Ford while Rachel settled on a wooden stool. It wasn't snowing, but it was getting really cold. They both remained silent. It seemed Juan was analysing his daughter's best friend. So he decided to start.

"I read the letter. She didn't tell me anything other than that she loves us and that she needed to get away because she found a rare opportunity outside the country. But I know my daughter too well to know she's lying. I can't tell what, but I'm her father. I know things."

"That sounds like conspiracy theory." Rachel smiled nervously.

"That she wouldn't have many opportunities if she stayed, I was more than aware. Santana is a good student, she is very intelligent, but she has never shown interest in fighting for a college degree. She wasn't like Juliet. That worried me. When the agents invaded my house, I think I understood why. Those men came into my house, beat me, intimidated my Juliet and my wife because apparently Santana was reported for went in an unauthorized march. Santana wasn't here, but they had a search and apprehension order to try to discover possible subversive materials. When Santana appeared, it was as if she was already aware of everything. I felt she was worried about us, but she wasn't surprised... it scared me. She told me not to worry because the lawyer had already settled everything. But what lawyer? As far as I know, Santana's job paid badly. Not all the jobs she said she could do could generate so much income to the point of paying such an expensive lawyer. Unless she was involved in something illegal, like drug dealing... or, by heaven's goddamn... prostitution."

"Mr. Lopez, Santana is like a sister to me. We're close and I know she'd never sell her body or do anything like getting involved with dealing."

"Do you really know her? I don't know, Rachel, I don't know... I've seen a lot happen in this town. I've seen a lot of people with two faces, or even more. What makes me anguished is that there are many gaps in my daughter's story, there are things that do not fit. In fact, many of the things that happened in the past do not fit. And something tells me you know how to fill them. Who is Santana? "

"Your daughter."

"Quit the crap!"

"I'm not joking, sir. Santana didn't tell me everything, but if there is one thing I don't have doubts about, it's that San loves you all too much. I didn't really read the letter, but whatever it is, believe me because her reasons are very strong."

"This is frustrating." Juan punched the hood of the car. "Stop lying. I know you know something... anything."

"All I know is that the agents' part of the house was my fault." Rachel lowered her head and tried to gain a little more time. "The girls saw a note about the march in a newspaper. It was legalized and everything. Santana advised us not to go, but we paid no attention. We were naive to think that it would be fun to engage in some act of 'subversion'. Then things got out of hand. A group of opponents infiltrated the march and turned it into a battlefield. I was disoriented, but San and another friend, Samuel, caught us and dragged us away. They went to the march just to keep an eye on us. It was San who got us out of there safely, but there are some people in Glee Club who don't like her or Samuel. They soon accused them both. I think I know who reported it, but it wasn't just your house that was turned over. The house of everyone who was with me, too. I was at Samuel's house at that time, and the agents had been at the Puckerman's house to search everything. Samuel reacted and was assaulted and one of the agents... " Rachel took a deep breath. It was a scene she desperately tried to get out of her head. "One of them touched me... down there… practically raping me in front of my friend's mother and younger siblings. That before dragging us to the police station. I was sure the agent would end what he promised to do to me as soon as he got there. They would probably put me in a separate cell and actually rape me. To my surprise, all of our colleagues who went on this march, with the exception of Santana, were in jail. And there was a lawyer who took care of everything. This lawyer is a personal friend of Congressman Pierce. As you know, Brittany, his daughter, is our friend and..."

"And what, Rachel? For God's sake, now that you've told all this, don't hide anything else from me. "

"Santana and Brittany... Mr. Lopez, your daughter is gay and Brittany was her girlfriend."

"Gay? But she has a boyfriend... one who has stubby hair... "

"Blaine is our friend and he was just bearding to help Santana. To keep up appearances."

"That's a lie... Rachel... my daughter can't be gay!"

"Why not, sir?" Rachel looked offended at Juan. "There's nothing wrong with being gay. Not that it was a disease or something."

"You can be killed for being gay! That's what is wrong!"

Then Juan fell silent and leaned back in the car. He was very shaken. Rachel didn't move a muscle. She was afraid that the slightest gesture of her might make the man explode. But Juan remained silent for a long time, as if he were processing all the information slowly.

"I'm sorry they touched you. It must have been devastating. I would have punched the agent if I had seen him touching you. After all, you're like a daughter."

"Thank you, Mr. Lopez."

"Still, Santana should have told me!" Juan was increasingly frustrated with the revelations. "I would protect her!"

"With all due respect, but you couldn't. Not with that. I speak from experience... "

"Are you?"

"My dads, Mr. Lopez... they were sentenced to death among other things, for being gay. Don't you remember?"

Juan stared at Rachel and all she could see in the big brown eyes was sincerity and also a great pain. He shook his head and leaned back in the car.

"Why didn't Santana tell me?" Juan continued to question, looking for any breach that might bring some light to help elucidate better the doubts that screamed in his head. "Why didn't she trust me... but did she trust you?"

"Because there are things that friends understand much better than parents."

Juan was silent and excused the girl for a minute. He entered the house, took a glass of water. Maribel had already locked herself in the room again while Juliet set up the kitchen.

"Who are you talking to, father?" The eldest daughter asked.

"Rachel." Juan saw no reason to lie.

"You shouldn't let this girl step on her feet here, Dad. She's in trouble. "

Juan looked at his eldest daughter and then felt his own weariness on his shoulders. He closed his eyes for two seconds and took a deep breath. He ignored Juliet, filled a bottle of water and went back to the garage, where Rachel was still waiting for him.

"Water?" He offered the young woman, who accepted. "Well... I can't say you didn't bring some news. I still can't tell if Santana was too brave or an idiot."

"Santana paid the price to protect me, and I owe her for the rest of my life. If only I could go back in time... "

"You're not guilty. This fucking government is... I know full well that if my San hadn't run away... she'd be arrested. Maybe even killed like your parents if the regime found out she's... That's what they do. Bandits have more rights than opponents in this shit country."

"Mr. Lopez..." Rachel tried to be cautious. "Can I go up to Santana's room? She got something from me and I'd like to have her back... if I can. I would never ask for anything of the kind if it were not really important to me."

"Go!"

Rachel wasn't planning to do such a scan so soon. She would wait for the dust to come down, but since she was there, with Juan Lopez, she would take the chance. She had no idea what Santana wanted her to get in the room. She had read the yellow paper and the only thing that existed in it was a reference to a loose board. Rachel went upstairs. She nodded to Juliet who folded her arms in disapproval at the presence of the button, then closed the door. Santana's room was in chaos and it was heart-wrenching to see the trunk rolled up and the records scattered, and some even broken. But Rachel focused on the board that according to the scrawled map (and Santana was a poor draftsman). It was the fourth that was supposed to be under the bed. She felt the wood and found the one that moved. She couldn't lift it with her fingernails. Rachel searched the room for something that might help her. She found the metal nail file and dug the object into the crevice and made an effort for the piece of wood to raise slightly. She managed to remove the piece of wood. In the hole was a pistol (Rachel didn't understand about guns and couldn't tell what kind it was), a bullet cartridge, and a HD. In fact, Santana's computer wasn't in the room, probably confiscated by the agents. Rachel didn't want to know about the gun and left it in the same place. She took the HD and put it in her backpack. She dragged the bed back to the place and left.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Asked a still-frustrated Juan Lopez, sitting on the couch. He had a posture of one who aged ten years on the last day.

"Yes sir... and Mr. Lopez, it may seem strange what I'm going to say, but I'm sure she's safe."

"I pray she will."

Rachel got on a bus and headed straight for the Rutherfords' house. Luckily it was not a long trip. The new leader hadn't yet come home and Rachel's curiosity to see what existed in that HD was enormous.

"Are you going out, Jimi?" She asked the boy that he was perfuming himself in the bedroom.

"I'm going to see my girl."

"Cool... can I borrow your laptop?"

"Of course." He indicated the computer on the desk. "Just don't go into my files."

"Lots of pornography?" Rachel smiled.

"I would call it didactic material."

"Sure it is!" Rachel flashed a fake smile.

"On the other hand, you can access it if you want. Click on 'scientific work' and you will find very instructive videos."

"Okay."

Rachel returned to the guestroom, connected the HD and began to rummage through the files. There was music, some school work, photos. Then Rachel noticed a folder called "circles." Rachel tried to access it, but a password was requested. She was tempted to find out what it was. She took the yellow paper and studied it carefully. At the bottom of the page was a sort of random code: 08but305. She tried and to Rachel's surprise, the briefcases were accessible. Santana knew Rachel wouldn't touch her pistol, but she wanted her to find and read that HD. It had maps of the city, notes, escape routes. The location of Button's post offices, pictures of the region, detailed notes. And it also had information about button members. Rachel accessed the archives of their circle. There were documents for each of the members.

She clicked Matt's.

Appeared address, photos, personal information and observations.

 _"... Matt is a good soldier and a good friend. Loyalty is his greatest virtue. He does everything that is determined, but he isn't a leader. The truth is that he is mediocre and his imagination is limited to the culinary dishes he invents. But I need to make him feel prestigious. Matt needs to feel useful and important…_ "

Rachel shook her head. The cruel style and remarks were definitely from Santana. Rachel read about the rest of the group.

" _... Sam is an improved version of Matt (in all aspects). It's easy to carry on and he knows how to keep that trouty mouth shut when he really need it. The problem is that he's still immature. One must constantly remind him of the need to be discreet, especially when he's facing those brown-shirt piece of shits. He must learn to control himself to be better used..._ "

" _... Kurt loves society, luxury, glamor. He's helpful, but I can't delegate more complex and risky tasks. It's not his nature. So he will always being a shallow button..._ "

" _... Blaine has a political future traced, so I can't make him seem so essential to others. It's for his own good. Sometimes I worry that he likes to risk too much. He needs to be a bit more careful..._ "

" _... Seban surprises me. It's difficult for a person to achieve such a feat, but he seems that this is no problem for him. Underneath that shyness is a great character and a potential leader. I can feel it as well as the callus on the sole of my foot..._ "

" _... I don't get tired of looking at Brittany. The things she does to me in bed..._ "

Rachel closed that file fast. Definitely Santana's notes about Brittany had nothing to do with the buttons.

"... Quinn is my cross. The confirmation that I have primed them all in past lives. I understand her rebelliousness and maybe I would want to kill myself if my father prostituted me. But I can't get carried away by her anger and rebellion. Someone needs to be rational and unfortunately I have this responsibility..."

Rachel's eyes widened, then she almost cried when she heard the truth about her friend. Quinn was 14 and a virgin when Russell Fabray had her get involved with Bill Mason, the son of an influential businessman, who was 17 at the time. It was just another "treat" among all the business that involved funding Russell's cabinet. Quinn hated the senior. When Bill tried to have sex with her, she managed to escape his assaults, but only to be reprimanded by Russell because she wasn't helping the family with all this 'attitude'. Quinn lost her virginity to Bill, and the next month the senior broke up with her.

There was no information about Quinn's involvement with Puck or whether she had casual sex with other people. Santana, however, made some observations about the nature of Quinn's behaviour and the potential she had: that she was much more than a perfect face and a tight vagina. But to her own father, that was all Quinn needed to be.

Russell forced her to have an affair with Ed Bloom, a younger parliamentarian whose political prestige was growing. Still, he's a 31-year-old guy. Russell knew that the MP had appealed to the young people, which increased his influence among the other colleagues. Russell had his own daughter to seduce and sleep with Bloom so he could take advantage of the other's political ascent. Russell even didn't care when he learned that Bloom liked to have kinky sex. Bloom would call Quinn the worst names, spank her, strangled her, forced her to fuck in uncomfortable positions.

Quinn spent three months enduring such martyrdom until she said that's enough. Russell beat his daughter and almost raped her that day, and days later, it was Quinn who was beating Rachel in the locker room. She assaulted Rachel not because she was angry with her colleague, but because the aggressiveness and violence were the escape valves she found to be able to support her own skin. That was the moment that Santana confronted her and reached out with the authority she had as a button. They worked out a way out of this trap. Santana provided and Quinn showed Russell copies of documents that incriminated him in illicit transactions, and negotiated her own way out of the house.

Santana noted later in the text that she couldn't predict how much this truce would last, so it was important to articulate Quinn's exit as soon as possible, but feared not to accomplish the task.

Rachel learned from those files that Santana was disconnected from all the mail activities after the intelligence service's breakdown, but that her exit was already scheduled to happen. Apparently she was one of the young women selected to attend an elite training program for Intelligence and Spy Services, but there were no details there of what exactly that would be.

Rachel hesitated a bit and clicked on her own name. Like Matt, there was personal information, photos, some documents and reports about the execution of her dads. Rachel went to the notes.

 _"... Rachel still has no idea of her own potential. With due training, she would be a formidable leader, even though she was kind of egocentric and uncompromising. She just began to take seriously the need to improve physically. I believe that she is the best person to stand in my place as the leader. Reynolds thinks so too. The problem is that Rachel wants to leave. It is frustrating to know that my best option won't be happy if she is called to replace me. More frustrating still is knowing that it will be difficult to put her on a plane to the East using only her parents' argument. That would cost money that I know she doesn't have much. I don't have it myself. The only way to get out 'for free' is to prove to be a useful and active button abroad. It is the unspoken philosophy: 'if you don't sponsor, you work'. I see the arts as a good alternative for Rachel. If she is a successful actress, she can still do pro-democracy propaganda for the country abroad. She has talent and has a family history that she favours in this case, but that isn't enough to make it happen, and as far as I know, the buttons have no theatre involvement or anything._

 _But I think if she goes after her biological father, she might have a chance. Rachel doesn't know, but she may be Lester Goldman's daughter. Also this isn't information that was given to me with my hands kissed. I needed to grate a little to connect the dots and the fact that Shelby Corcoran had the contact in the East to make the letters arrive was a good way for my discovery. But I don't know if I should tell Rachel, because this information by the hour wouldn't make much sense. She herself has never been curious about her biological father. At least, she never talked about it to me. All she knows is that her biological father was an asshole who ran away when Corcoran got pregnant. Which was true._

 _I've never met him in person, but everyone says that Lester Goldman is a asshole brand-name. He is a powerful and wealthy man. And he's a button. One of the most powerful and influential one, despite doing dirty business with the government and with Texas. I know he makes a scene in the capital, but getting in touch with him is complicated. It's necessary to talk with someone as big as Goldman. Perhaps Mr. Pierce? Or this or try to contact him being one of his girls. Goldman is, among other things, a pimp._

 _That's my dilemma. My duty is to prepare her to replace me, which means she won't leave. But I want her to leave because that's what would make her happy..._ "

Rachel breathed it all. That's why Santana wanted her to find the HD. Inside the frustrations and outbursts, Santana pointed the way to the exit. Rachel was aware that she should become active and important. Santana confirmed the theory, warned about the barriers she had to face within her own buttons and even indicated a shortcut: the New Directions, despite all the problems, needed to win the Nationals. More than that: Rachel would have to figure out a way to make her possible biological father, Lester Goldman, seeing her shining in the capital. When she saw Matt coming home, she unplugged the HD and hid it in her case. She accessed a random news website.

"How was it there?" She asked, not as interested as she should have been.

"A hell. They panicked. Brittany started crying and Quinn snapped." Matt was frustrated.

"I need to talk to Quinn!"

"Please do this!" Matt sat on the edge of the bed, but he held his respectful posture. "How was with San's parents?"

"Juan asked me questions. He suspects that San is something else... but I handled him."

"Great... I think we make a good pair, right?" Matt smiled hopefully.

"Yes, of course." Rachel forced a smile. "I think we are."


	19. New home

"Rachel?" Quinn answered her friend at the door. It was a surprise to see the new first of their circle with a case of bread in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

"Hi Quinn, inappropriate time?"

"It's not that... I was just reading a book. Come in, Rach."

Rachel nodded a little nervously and stepped inside.

"I brought some sweet bread from the bakery near Matt's house. It's delicious. And this wine is not as good as that one Santana stole from your father, but Matt said it's not that bad."

"Must be pretty good, then."

Quinn picked up the presents and quickly packed the food on the tiny counter in the kitchenette. She didn't want to say it, but that would be her first meal of the day. She had little money and didn't have much talent to make her own food. Quinn spent Christmas with Kurt's family, despite Finn's stares. Mrs. Hummel gave her leftovers from supper, and that's what she ate the next day. On that day, she had only put water on her stomach and a few cookies. The sweet bread and wine came in good time for Quinn. She served Rachel, who, on the contrary, was satisfied, but who, by education, pinched some of the bread and drank some wine just to accompany her friend.

"I haven't had a chance to talk to you since prison. Sorry." Rachel said with a certain sadness in her voice. "Those last days have been crazy."

"To everyone. Those motherfuckers took me to prison knowing that I am Russell Fabray's daughter. They didn't give a damn and mess with my things, they threw the little I have on the floor, but they didn't find anything!" She said with some pride. "The agents didn't find the pendrive with the forbidden books and the documents against my father are with Gilmore. It was Santana who told me to do this at the time." And she was silenced for a while. "I'll miss her."

"Santana is like a sister."

"Not my sister, but she saved me."

Rachel nodded and gave a faint smile.

"Quinn, do you like living here?"

"Of course. It's not a very comfortable place, but I'm happier here and I'm safer than when I lived with my parents in a mansion."

"No Quinn... I mean it. No need to answer with this memorized speech. Do you really like it here?"

Quinn looked at Rachel in surprise, then fired.

"I hate this place! I spend most of my time alone and get caught up in anxiety attacks, hoping my cell phone rings with a button call, because I know I'll have company or something to do. "

"Wow..."

"Please don't tell it to anybody. It makes me sound ungrateful, desperate and pathetic. By the way, I've been talking to this ball I called Meredith! I look at it, I talk and I still keep waiting for an answer! I'm going nuts!"

"I won't say anything, Quinn, don't worry. In fact, the biggest reason I'm here is because I want to make a proposal."

"What kind of proposal?"

"As you know, I've been kicked out of the Puckerman's house and now I'm temporarily staying at Matt's place. Fortunately, now that I've turned 18, Mr. Gilmore is taking care of the process to release the inheritance my parents left for me. Then I'll have good money in my bank account and I'll use a part of it to rent a small apartment with, at least, a couple of rooms and a real kitchen."

"That's cool..." Quinn frowned, not quite understanding why Rachel was saying it to her.

"I just don't want to be alone. So I thought ask you if you'd like to share an apartment with me at least until the end of this year?"

"Do you want to share an apartment with me, Quinn Fabray, the girl who tormented you for, I don't know, about three years?"

"It's not that Quinn Fabray I'm inviting to share an apartment with me. I'm inviting the Quinn Fabray in front of me now: the intelligent and sensitive good friend who dedicated a beautiful song to me on my birthday party."

"Wow!" Quinn blinked a few times and opened a huge smile. "That would be great, Rach! Of course I'm in."

"Really?" Rachel's eyes widened and her face brightened with happiness at the positive response.

"Of course yes! When are you planning on looking for the apartment? I can help you, we can find a good place together. It's going to be fun."

"I think so."

Quinn hugged Rachel, who was taken by surprise with the gesture, but it wasn't bad at all. On the contrary, it was comforting to be in the arms of her friend. Besides, Rachel loved the way her body fit perfectly against hers. It was comfortable and made her feel good, like a good shiver. Quinn broke her embrace with a happy, relieved sigh.

"Who would have thought we'd end up like this?" Quinn stared at her friend.

"As?"

"Friends... living together."

"It's not a bad feeling, is it?"

"Quite the contrary, Rach. I was feeling a rag before you came. And now you made my day. Thank you even for the vote of confidence. "

...

After a long week in which Rachel, Quinn, and Matt's uncle came looking for a perfect apartment, they found the one near the pizzeria that served as a reference point for the entrance of the Buttons' headquarters. Despite its proximity to the city's bohemian zone, the building was on a residential street. It was an 70sqm unfurnished apartment with two bedrooms, one bathroom, living room with kitchen. Quinn particularly liked the view from the bedroom she chose for herself: from there it was possible to see the pizzeria sign Rachel had said was one of the buttons' halls. That's what the buttons meant for Quinn: freedom. Then she looked at the sign and saw it simply: freedom.

Since Rachel's money hadn't yet been released and Quinn was without the allowance, mr. Gilmore lent money to advance the first three months of rent for them. Rachel planned to find small jobs through the city, as babysitting services, and to tutor some struggling student. Quinn also had plans to earn some money from honest work, and was assigned to work once a week on a digital inclusion project for the elderly: that's the button project she chose work with.

The apartment also meant a new base that the girls had to prepare for the approaching post-school life. Quinn would graduate and be removed from the country by the buttons. Rachel had a much bigger way to go if she wanted the same fate. She needed to contact her supposed biological father, Lester Goldman, not because Rachel wanted a father figure beside her, but because, according to Santana's archives, he was a Button of the most inner circles and highly influential. If there was anyone who could get her out of that country, it would be him.

"It's very empty here..." Quinn complained about the lack of furniture in the new apartment. Rachel didn't care about those details. She had a bed and electric power. That was enough.

"At least you have television," Sam teased, pointing to the appliance on a stool. He had a sore back after helping the girls to move in. Kurt and Matt were also volunteering their muscles to help the girls.

"A 20-inch tube television, but a television." Quinn rolled her eyes. There were three channels working in the country: the state and two of private companies, but they were submitted to government censorship.

"Seban's mother is going to redecorate their TV room and said she's going to donate a sofa for us, maybe the rake. Which will be great." Rachel's tone was ironic. "It's enough to fill this room."

The couch in question was a two seats one, but it was enough to occupy a considerable space in the living room of that small apartment. Quinn had never in Seban's house, but Rachel tried to tighten the bonds with the other button, taking the hint from Santana's reports. Mr. Lopez donated a dresser and Mrs. Rutherford gave the girls a little wardrobe. It was all great. The boys spent the day putting everything they could on Burt Hummel' truck, and then climbing the stairs of the building and leaving everything in place.

"Pizza?" Quinn asked.

"Please!" Sam thrilled. "My stomach is on my back."

"I guess I'll go for it," Matt apologized. "I have some things to plan..."

Rachel forced a smile, but she wanted to roll her eyes. There was nothing to be planned, but since being declared "leader" of the circle, Matt began to behave as if he had more things to do, as Santana did, except that Santana really was always busy. Anyway, Matt thought that would help his image.

Quinn called the pizzeria and made the request. Two large size pizzas: enough for five people. Quinn and Rachel didn't eat much. Sam, Blaine, and Kurt, on the other hand, had stokers' stomachs.

"Not in a million years would I have imagined you would end up living together." Kurt settled on one of the cushions on the floor to stand beside Blaine. Quinn arranged things in the kitchen to receive the pizzas: the first meal in the new house. Sam sat on the floor next to Rachel.

"The knobs work miracles!" Rachel joked and then turned her attention to the program of clips she was watching on television. "I hate this guy." She realized that she spoke loudly when she saw Blaine's startled face. "What? Mr. Schue has a fixation on this artist and therefore makes so many rehearsals with his songs. It's annoying. This guy is just a pastiche of pop music from the East."

"Rachel Berry started to reveal herself!" Quinn chortled with Sam. She hated pop music and thought her friend's statement was great.

"And last year, when we made that number with the t-shirts?" Rachel remembered. "When Finn broke my nose... it was the biggest lie."

"I could never wear a T-shirt saying I like boys!" Kurt defended himself. "That's why I opted for a narcissist."

"Sam wore 'trouty mouth' just because Santana called him that." Rachel accused.

"And by what chance should it be?" Her best friend nudged.

"Organizational Mania!"

"What?" Kurt started to laugh and Quinn was surprised.

"The first time I went to his room, I took a pen from the case on the desk to write a message and left it there. It didn't take two seconds for him to put the pen in place. Then I wondered and decided to roll the rug by his bed before I sat down. He sat next to me and tidied the rug with his feet. Then I discovered that he organizes CDs by year of release, record label and then artist name in alphabetical order."

"You're lying!" Sam blushed.

"And to end the story..." Rachel's mouth was covered by her friend. She licked the palm of her hand to try to break free. It didn't help.

"Do you think I'm disgusted with your lick?" Sam started laughing and Rachel's turn to blushed.

"Kids!" Quinn rolled her eyes.

Sam took his hand from Rachel's mouth and they sealed an apparent peace when Rachel kissed him quickly on the cheek. The pizzas arrived. An extra package arrived: a dessert in Rachel's name. She opened the small box and saw cookies. Nailed to the inner ceiling of the packaging was a blue button. Her heart slammed. The time has finally come. She took the button on a sticky tape and slipped it into the pocket of her pants.

"What was that?" Quinn was curious.

"I was promoted." Rachel merely said.

Rachel went to the bedroom, picked up the cell phone, and sent a coded text message to Reynolds. She waited five minutes to receive the reply with a location and time. She should go to the pizzeria in the morning. Then, she came back to the company of her friends, and without comment, she took a slice of the vegetarian pizza.

"It's something you can talk about?" Sam couldn't stand it in curiosity. Rachel just nodded and looked at the television. The video clip program was over and no one was paying attention.

"It's almost nine." Sam said. "There's a curfew today."

"Don't you want to sleep here today?" Rachel asked.

"Not at all!" Quinn protested. "Not as long as we make the rules, Berry."

"Rules?" Sam looked worried.

"Sam won't cause us any trouble," Rachel said seriously. "It's late and today there are starving agents in the street! We're still having dinner and the boys are leaving here in unnecessary rush. Besides, if Kurt sleeps here with you, it's going to be a welcome sight for Mr. Hummel."

"That's true..." Kurt took another bite of pizza. "He was always happy when Rachel slept at home... or more relieved."

"What do you mean?" Quinn raised her infamous eyebrow.

"My father is terrified of me being gay because of the consequences. We talked about it a while back and he hinted that he was happy to see how much I struggled to overcome certain nature... one day he even commented that I seemed to be very energetic with Rachel."

"I don't understand..." Sam frowned.

"Sometimes Kurt would jump on the bed while I pretended to be very vocal." Rachel remembered. "The next morning, at breakfast, Mr. Hummel asked if everything was okay with me with a look of concern. I would put my Broadway smile on my face and say it had never been better."

"Oh my God... this is... disturbing!" Quinn frowned.

"I agree!" Blaine looked at Rachel strangely.

"But it was funny..." Rachel snatched up another piece of pizza. She was glad the group had distracted herself from the button matter. "And breakfast at Kurt's is the best! No one says that a mechanic like Mr. Hummel has such a good hand to make breads."

"Really?" Quinn was curious.

"My grandfather was a confectioner and my father helped him in the bakery. Let's just say my father got very critic when it came to breads and cakes." Kurt explained.

"And when can I experience this?" Quinn was spontaneous. The truth is, she hasn't eaten with such quality since she left home.

"I don't know... Anytime, I don't care." Kurt glanced at his watch. "Nine fifteen. Time to go."

"Can I have a piece of pizza?" Sam got up, took a slice of it as he placed his wallet in his pocket to leave.

"You don't have to run." Rachel protested.

"You must, Sam... I was serious about discussing rules, Rachel Berry. This is an equal relationship between two roommates. Hosts and potential boyfriends can stay only after we talk."

"Okay..." Sam said goodbye kissing Rachel's cheek and then Quinn's. Kurt and Blaine did the same.

Five minutes later the boys were walking out the door of the small apartment with a few more pieces of pizza in their hands. Rachel had a strange sensation in her belly when she was alone for the first time with Quinn, living under the same roof. She took the dirty dishes, put them in the sink. She realized that the cleaning products were still inside the box somewhere: just the stuffs of what was in Quinn's kitchen, which was about half a bottle of detergent, a new shampoo, and the bathroom cleaners.

"Are you willing to wash dishes now?" Quinn ate one of the cookies. "I'm all aching, I need a shower and sleep at least 10 hours."

"We can wash the dishes tomorrow..." Rachel began to provide partial washing in the best American way. "You want to discuss rules now?"

"Berry, the only thing I want is to take a shower and sleep! I'm ground-up."

"You go first then."

Rachel went to her bedroom and opened the bag that she hadn't even touched in the two and a half weeks she was staying at Matt's. She picked up her toothbrush, her hair brush, the clothes she had just washed, and the clean, scented bedding Mrs. Rutherford had donated. Rachel folded the old bed, tidied up the pillow, and held out the only blanket she has. Thanks to the good god the heating system of the building worked well. She looked out the window, at the neighbourhood. That street was full of small buildings from three to four stories high. Only the ground floor of the corner buildings had trade. She realized that there was a neighbour facing her. Good thing the apartment had an old shutter. She could still afford a new one if necessary. She went down the shutter and waited for Quinn to get out of the shower. Only then she could refresh herself. It was invigorating feel the warm water on her body. Where was she thinking when she thought about having the boys spend the night? She laid her head on the pillow, but her body was too tired and she had trouble sleeping. She could have some tea if she had any. She knocked Quinn's door and her roommate opened it in an annoying way.

"Do you have a tylenol or something similar for muscle pain?" Rachel asked.

"I have an ointment that relieves some locked muscles, but I also have a pill, if you prefer. Or you can have both. "

"Both?" Rachel was uncertain.

"Where does it hurt, Berry?" Quinn gave a small smile. "Are your shoulders sore? Your neck?"

"Basically..."

"Come here." Quinn took Rachel's hand and pulled her into her room. "Sit down in my bed, take off your t-shirt and I'll give you a massage with the ointment. Then you take the analgesic."

Rachel did what Quinn said. She sat on the bed and watched as Quinn took a tube of ointment that was halfway through. Quinn smiled briefly before she positioned herself behind her friend. Rachel brushed her hair away and was a bit tense as she felt Quinn's hands touch her skin. But the tension quickly turned into a good chill as Quinn's soft hands began to massage her shoulders and the back of her neck.

Those hands were magic. Quinn pressed the sore muscles, causing some pain, but the result of the treatment was fabulous. Rachel closed her eyes, made a grimace of pain now and then, but on the whole, what she most felt was the pleasure of the contact. Quinn's hands were straddling her shoulders, neck, and back, where her muscles were also badly treated. And how efficient they were. Quinn also liked the feeling of taking care of Rachel: it was comforting to be with someone by her own will, especially if that someone was the girl who had strong personality but also great heart. It was almost a privilege for Quinn to be in that position.

"And we're done!" Quinn smiled, proud of her job.

Rachel opened her eyes and almost moaned, complaining about the absence of the touch. She caught her own hot face just thinking about it. This wasn't the first massage she ever got. Santana has already done this kind of favour on a few occasions, but for Rachel, the leader's hands, though helpful, didn't give her such pleasure. In fact, Rachel thought that Santana would do massages like Rachel was a piece of bread. With Quinn it was different.

"Thank you." Rachel said almost in a sigh.

"You're welcome." They exchanged glances, as if they were in a trance in which even the density of room air changed. Quinn broke the moment. "Now take the pill and lie down. You'll wake up better."

"How about you?"

"Me what?"

"Do you want me to return the favour?"

"This is not sex, Berry!"

"That's not what I mean…"

Rachel flushed with embarrassment, but Quinn was just making fun of her.

"Another day, Berry. Good evening."

"Good evening." Rachel took the pill and left the room. But before she left, she turned slightly to her friend. "Quinn..."

"What?"

"I'm glad we're together... I mean, as roommates. You're a good friend."

"I'm happy too, Rach."

Rachel put a smile on her face and went to her bedroom.

...

All the treatment that Quinn had done worked out too well. Rachel slept like a stone, so she was frightened when her cell phone alarm went off. Sleepy and confused, she checked the hours on the phone's display and jumped out the bed. She opened the suitcase and wore the first thing she saw that wasn't pyjamas. She ran to the bathroom and tried to be as quiet as she could to not disturb her roommate.

"Where are you going?" Quinn, still in her nightgown, was watching her with a packet of biscuit in hand.

"I have a date in ten minutes."

"Can I know what it's about?"

"Button subject."

Rachel ran down the stairs, and so she continued for two blocks to the pizzeria. The race was no problem as she was in great shape. She reached the alley next to the pizzeria and headed toward the warehouse. She crossed to the pizzeria cleaning lady, who was confused to see the girl.

"Berry? It's been a long time since I've seen you." The woman liked the polite with the girl she'd known for some time.

"Good morning Sonja... do you know if Reynolds came by?"

"I don't know. You look a little pale. I think you'd better sit down."

"I can't. I'm late. "

Rachel made her way to the warehouse without bothering with explanations. Sonja knew enough not to ask questions about the people in the alley. She smiled at the button and left her alone. Rachel opened the warehouse door and turned on the light. She looked at the door, afraid that this time Sonja might be curious. She decided to lock the door, since all the buttons with access to the common room had the key. She got in the elevator, inserted the electronic device in the form of a button, typed in the password and the elevator went down. She was nervous because this would be the first time she had come into the common room to be accepted into a different circle. Rachel met Reynolds and nine others over there. She had only seen half of them. Matt wasn't there. Immediately she regretted not having read the part about other circles in Santana's HD.

"I'm glad you decided to come along, little one." Reynolds looked at his watch.

"Sorry." Rachel was naturally red because of the race, which was advantageous or the others would notice the blush.

"Guys, this is Rachel Berry, the newest member of this circle."

"About time. This circle needed some fresh face." A man who appeared to be in his thirties greeted her first. The others did the same then.

The circle was more heterogeneous than he expected. In addition to Reynolds who led it, there were also three community college students, one of whom was Susan Jameson who was a senior at school when Rachel was a sophomore. She found it interesting how they never spoke with each other. There was the guy who works at the local post office: he was the unit manager. The 40-year-old man who identified himself as Roger Ayala. He owned a small bookstore and Rachel assumed Sam probably knew him since the older man used to sell comics. The had never seen the others. Anyway, Reynolds was the leader of operational circles and she should have thought she wouldn't get into somebody with important people.

"Welcome, Rachel Berry," Reynolds said with an almost forced grin.

"Hello everybody." The young woman said unkindly to a group in which she was the youngest. She was so accustomed to dealing with people of the same age range as her original circle that seeing older people gave her another dimension than the Buttons.

"Guys," Reynolds said as if reading a list of protocols. "This is Rachel, Rachel, this is your second circle."

"Was it the same as Santana's?" She asked and elicited a laugh from Reynolds, this time genuine, and some small reactions from other people in the circle.

"How far did you know about Santana's activities?" Reynolds returned the question.

"That she worked a lot in inner circle activities. She has already done mail work. But Santana never told any details, though. I know she travelled every 15 days as mailwoman." Rachel knew more than that. She had glanced over some of them in the information contained in the HD and knew much more than she was willing to reveal.

"That's correct..." Reynolds nodded with satisfaction. "Santana is a talented girl, and it wasn't for nothing that she was assigned to a special project. She has never formally belonged to this circle, but you will see, Rachel, that once you settle into inner circles, you get to live with more buttons. You know a much larger dimension of our society. This is the post office, maybe if we put it like this, it's easier to explain. Our responsibility is to serve this city and the surrounding region, so we are many."

He began to explain the delivery process. The couriers came hidden in various ways. They were concentrated in some bases scattered in the regions that previously had status of states. The buttons of that circle went to one of these bases, in the case there, in the main city of the county, and separated the correspondences referring to the block of cities. Eventually, they would bring them to headquarters and start organizing the pink buttons for deliveries. In the case of city correspondence, they could be concentrated at headquarters. In the other smaller and rural towns that were within range, certain buttons had to be answered one by one. The orders were simpler: the people of the city and nearby had to leave everything at headquarters and there was the right day for pick up in other locations. Was it noble work? Of course! Rachel knew how important this whole scheme was so that people, like her, could receive news of the loved ones without fear of saying what they felt. After all, it wasn't just international orders that circulated.

"Did you find the pistol Santana said to you look for?" Reynolds asked.

"Yeah, but I didn't get it..." Rachel tried to digest the information one more time to study the reactions of the innermost circle leader.

"Were you afraid?" Rachel nodded quickly. "But you have to learn to shoot or you won't be able to face certain stumbling blocks of this work. Ayala should be your instructor before you start acting. Do the following: go to the Lopez's house, take the pistol. And when you're done, talk to me again."

"Understood." Rachel nodded humbly and was intrigued: Reynolds didn't know about HD. Or, if he knew, it didn't matter at all. Judging by all the photos and information she'd overlooked, Rachel found it improbable. "But you all... know how to shoot?"

"Go to the Lopez's, do what you have to do. That pistol belonged to Santana. Now it's yours." Reynolds said firmly, authoritatively.

Rachel didn't like it. She needed to go home first and get some money. There, she found Quinn washing the bathroom that, by itself, was an unusual scene. The kitchen was tidy and some empty boxes were already piling up in the corner of the small living room. Rachel didn't think it was fair that her friend was doing all the work. They should be doing everything together.

"Bad date?" Quinn drew her attention from the bathroom.

"I need your computer! But first, I need a ride."

Quinn frowned and was surprised by Rachel's attitude, but she nodded. They went to the Lopez and found no one there. Quinn watched as Rachel jumped over and grabbed the extra key in the same place as usual. The next minute, they were coming in through the kitchen door. Rachel didn't mind her companion accompanying her.

"When Santana said goodbye to me and Matt, she asked me to give a letter to her father, as you know. But she also gave me a kind of map with a secret place in her room." Rachel explained as they went upstairs and reached Santana's room. "She put a gun in that place and also a HD with some information. Santana had mapped out some operations, photos, reports." Rachel pushed the bed and pointed at the loose board. "Reynolds asked me to take the gun. It's just the pistol, you know? He didn't at any time imply that there was another thing." Quinn helped her lift the plank.

"Are you trying to insinuate that Santana wanted you to know things that you shouldn't theoretically?"

"I'm pretty sure." Rachel took the pistol and the bullet cartridge. Quinn looked around and grabbed a backpack from Santana. They put the gun inside, carefully.

"And this HD had something else?"

"I don't know if there's anything more to it than I said, but I think it's safe to say that Santana shouldn't be storing that information the way she did." Rachel ducked once more and reached inside the gap.

"What are you doing?!"

"I felt something." Rachel's arm was almost all buried in the gap. "There's something here... your arm is longer than mine."

Quinn reached into the hole and felt a plastic bag between her fingers and began to pull it. It was a bit heavy. With a little difficulty, she brought the package into the crackling light. Quinn looked at and brought it to the surface. Then to Rachel, who was thoughtful. Rachel saw that she had a note in the money package. It said: "buy my bike."

"It seems to be Santana's savings. How much is here? About 50 grand? It's good money here, Berry! How did she get all this together?"

"I don't know, Quinn. But what I see here is that San wanted me to take her bike and still give the money to her parents. That's exactly what I'm going to do."

"Amazing how she planned it all in one day."

"Oh, Quinn, it wasn't in just one day. Santana already knew that she was leaving and began to organize all her stuffs. The problem is that something happened and things were anticipated. If she had had the time we had planned before, we would have seen more."

"Do you think?"

"I'm sure."


	20. Sexuality

Things that Rachel learned about having a pistol: Keeping it hidden is good; not talking about it to other people is good; having to show it is bad; having to point it at someone is trouble; having to waste a bullet means you're in too much trouble. Luckily, she only experienced the least part of it, in her opinion. Ayala was a good instructor. They spent the week in a country area on the outskirts of the city, where she learned to handle the pistol and shoot. She didn't have a very precise aim, but Ayala attributed this lack of patience and still a certain fear of carrying a firearm. He felt that as soon as Rachel use to having a firearm, the better she would use the object.

"Pay attention and breathe before you shoot!" Ayala corrected Rachel's posture for the umpteenth time.

"But in a situation of danger, I won't have the time to straighten my body, breathe and shoot. Especially if someone is shooting back! And since I'm not going to fight for a shotgun league, what's the point?" Rachel raged.

Ayala took the gun from Rachel's hands, pointed it at the wood with the painted target without taking her eyes off the student and fired. It wasn't accurate, but Rachel had to swallow that the shot was closer to the center than all her other attempts.

"Listen here, girl. Pay close attention." Ayala locked the gun and lifted it so that the weapon was in front of Rachel's eyes. "The issue is not your bad aim because of your lack of patience and training. Do you know what I'm talking about?" Rachel simply shook her head, letting the instructor finish the lesson. "If you fail to balance and think even in the most critical situation, if you just react, you will screw up and you will compromise everything else. I don't want you to hit the target right in the center right now! I want you to learn to think with the pressure of having a gun in your hands. Having a pistol changes the spectrum of possibilities and your decisions. The best choice is always not to use it. But if you have to use it, you will need to be cold-blooded. You can't abstract yourself from the situation. You need to be with your head in place all the time."

Ayala had a point: in fact it was very difficult to think coherently with a firearm in hand. Feelings of power and fear were frightening. Ayala emphasized that feelings of power and fear were necessary, but that they should be in balance with reasoning. Life and death could be decided in a second, and for all this one could not give up the responsibility of making a conscious decision.

Rachel came home thoughtfully. Ayala was not only talking about thinking about possession of a firearm: that was a metaphor for anything else she did: especially about the plan to get out of there. No way Rachel had thought about taking time out of her plans, but the lessons of her instructor reminded her that everything needed to be done without hiccups. This was the most important lesson of the day, and Rachel came home thinking about everything Ayala had told her.

"Did you take pictures of your training site this time?" Quinn was entertained at the computer when her roommate arrived. Rachel didn't reveal where the HD was or even showed it to Quinn, but the idea was enough to spark a different shine in the shallow button.

Quinn thought that if Santana registered on files a whole set of detailed information about what she did and saw in the buttons, Rachel should continue her job. Quinn herself began to assemble a skeleton of information of her own. Rachel knew that Santana had good reason to have all the work that, in the end, saved her life on at least one occasion: if she weren't the "paranoid cautious lady" and had no knowledge of terrain and geography, she would have succumbed to day in which the special government service burst one of the mail centers. But Rachel wasn't worried about going deeper into this inner world. She wanted to leave. She wanted to go to the capital and talk to the people who would really put her out. If she stayed, she would end up being an eternal shallow button waiting for a miracle to leave.

Quinn had another vision because of her life experience. She wasn't a button for ideology but out of necessity. The alternatives were far worse than being tied to a powerful clandestine organization. Quinn had pragmatic reasoning. As much as Rachel had full confidence in the good faith of the organization, and she hadn't experienced anything that would make her think otherwise, Quinn understood that there were no saints. She was convinced that the buttons might even be a better alternative than the fascist regime that ruled the country. But that didn't mean that there was no corruption, influence peddling, and schemes that would be condemned in any democratic society.

"No pictures this time, Quinn. I'm not a spy or something to have to document everything."

"Santana documented, right?"

"Santana had other functions and purposes." Rachel threw herself at the old couch donated by Seban's mother. "This isn't for me. It would be silly to worry. "

"It's not silly. That calls for documentation."

"Quinn! You should be much more concerned about school and your volunteer work. It's not because I share some things with you that makes you part of them. Besides, your new obsession to know what Santana really does is very suspicious, you know?"

"Are you implying that I am a mole or something?" Quinn was clearly offended and rightly so: the bad bits that passed in the hands of her father were not few. Close to the terror of having to prostitute herself to attend to her father's yearnings, not to mention the beatings, the rigid hierarchy and the mysteries of the buttons were like a refreshing breeze in her world. Rachel shook her head and rubbed her face. She was really tired.

"Sorry... being a button makes you paranoid in a sense."

"Sometimes you talk like her" Quinn grunted. "You and Santana have the same habit of never completing the information. And the same way of intoning the voice when you're frustrated."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Rachel rose from the sofa and went to her room.

Rachel was crazy about a shower. She already had a dresser in her room. Quinn took the donated wardrobe. But there were still scattered boxes. She didn't have time during the week to sort everything out. She was never so happy that Matt was the new official leader, and especially that he left her alone. She threw herself on the bed and closed her eyes.

"Berry, I'm on my way out." Quinn knocked on her door. Rachel was shocked to be awake from the nap. She thought he had closed her eyes only for a minute, but the clock indicated that she had been sleeping for two hours.

"Okay!" Rachel stood up in an effort and opened her bedroom door. She found Quinn neatly dressed.

"I'm going to work at the shelter and then I'm going to have dinner at Kurt's. He wants to officially introduce me to Burt. "

"If you can bring some food, I would thank you for life."

"You're so inelegant!" Rachel smiled at the sight of Quinn's disgusted face. She couldn't blame herself: the food at the Hummel's was very good.

"You will still learn how to be poor, Fabray."

"You can't imagine how much I'm in the way..." Quinn smiled and left their home.

Rachel closed the bedroom door and went back to doze.

Rachel woke up with a noise from the avenue. She stood up and lazily looked through the cracks in the shutter. It was a car crash. She hoped the problem would be settled soon, in a gentleman's agreement. She had a headache and would hate to hear sirens. She took the pyjamas she was wearing the night before, a clean underwear, and had a bath. Water in the body was one of the most relaxing things that existed. The phone rang, but Rachel wouldn't come out from under the shower anytime soon. Left it there. Slowly she put on her clothes and arranged the dirty ones in the basket. It was time to go to the laundry. That would be her job. Quinn was struggling with housework, something she had never done before she moved in on her own. Rachel couldn't complain, but there were certain things that Quinn hated and only did after much insistence and complaint. One was washing dishes. Quinn also wasn't a culinary excellency, the repertoire was very limited, but at least she didn't burn the fried egg yet. Rachel, whenever she could, took care of the food as well.

She checked missed call. It was Matt. As Rachel didn't answer, he left a text message.

"We need to dispatch on the performance of the group members." - MR

Rachel rolled her eyes at the message. He recalled Santana's remarks in HD, about what the true leader had said about Matt being a bureaucrat. Of course, Rachel knew that Santana had to report about the circle to someone, but then make formal evaluations? There was nothing in her behaviour to indicate this, and the observations in the HD about the members of the circle were, above all, personal. Anyway, Rachel called Matt to listen to what the new leader had to say.

"Hey Matt!"

" _Rachel, I've been trying to talk to you for a long time_."

"Sorry, but I was on a button matter."

" _Okay, I know we're both busier now. But we need to hold a meeting to organize our circle. Since Santana left we didn't have the chance to really set the new roles._ "

"Have not all the tasks been distributed as Santana wanted? Quinn went to work today."

" _Yes, but Santana is no longer here_." Matt wasn't wrong, but his statement generated great discomfort in Rachel. " _Our circle will play new roles and everyone needs to make the machine walk._ "

"It's all right. When would you like to discuss it? "

" _Today!_ "

"Can't even be tomorrow? Don't misunderstand me, Matt, but today I'm dead."

" _Okay, Rachel, we'll meet up tomorrow._ "

With the matter settled, Rachel decided to check the refrigerator. It wasn't very cheery, but it had milk, lettuce, six eggs, olives and cheese. And bread. And cereal. There was no fruit. Buy food was something very expensive.

Quinn came home at the sound of the gong. She literally brought home the delicious meal she had at Kurt's.

"I thought you were sleeping in Kurt's house today." Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"Who do you think I am?"

"Well... I used to 'sleep' with him at least once a week. The mattress is great and Kurt doesn't snore."

"You're you... I'm another story, Rachel."

"It's up to you. I'm just saying that staging with Kurt is not bad. It's the best dating without sex you can wish for! Besides, Burt is so desperate to see his son as a heterosexual that he wouldn't do badly even if Kurt showed up hand in hand with Grace!"

Quinn laughed. Grace was an easy-to-know cheerleader who, of course, cultivated a vulgar image of dress, makeup, and language. But Quinn also laughed because, for the second time in a day, Rachel spoke like Santana. For a moment it was as if their old friend and leader were there making her usual sour considerations.

"Well... You were right about one thing." Quinn leaned under the counter as Rachel opened the bowl and smiled with the coloured salad, the portion of rice and a piece of salmon filet. "The food at the Hummel's house is wonderful and I have to make this quest to ask for a habit."

"It's the thing I miss most about being Kurt's beard!" She served herself and warmed the meal quickly in the microwave. It's enough to sweeten.

"Burt asked many questions about us living together. It was hard to bend him that there was nothing wrong with me sharing the apartment with his son's ex-girlfriend." Rachel was concentrating on the food. "He asked if you were happy with Sam."

"Sam?"

"Yeah... everyone thinks you and Sam are dating."

"Of course..." Rachel was uncertain. Of course she knew the gossip. Even all the members of the glee club were convinced that she and Sam were a couple. But that speculation was different from staging a date with Kurt: Sam was handsome and had to feel free to be with anyone he wanted. "What kind of salad sauce is this?" She asked randomly.

"Italian."

"So nice." It looked delicious.

"Do you want pepper?" Rachel looked at her disbelievingly. There was no pepper sauce in the house, and Quinn knew it. "Go buy!"

"Very funny!" Quinn's cynical side wasn't Rachel's favourite.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"I'm going to have a date with Matt..."

"Romantic?" Quinn teased.

"Please!"

"Why not?"

"I've never been interested in Matt."

"Have you ever been interested in anyone but Finn?"

Rachel looked at Quinn and was annoyed by the question. She avoided answering, but the subject had aroused many curiosities in her friend.

"Have you ever kissed someone other than Kurt?" Rachel stared at Quinn for some debauchery that did not exist in the question.

"Some people, yes. Puck at the time he tried to have sex with me but I said no… Sam, once… Brittany..."

"Wait! Did you kiss Brittany?" Now disbelief took over Quinn. "Does Santana know that?"

"If she knows, she never said anything. We were at Britt's house drinking wine for the first time in our lives. Brittany and I started talking about sex... She talked about the differences between having sex with boys and with Santana. I said that I had never kissed anyone, so she kissed me."

It was on one of the few occasions when she was at Brittany's house without Santana nearby. Even rarer occasion because the reason for being there wasn't a button matter: she and Brittany were studying for a test. After Rachel taught her friend to do some simple physics equations, they both took a break for the snack. Brittany showed erotic messages that Santana sent, like orders her girlfriend to touch her own breasts, take off her clothes and masturbate among other obscene messages. For Brittany, it was pure amusement, but for Rachel, nothing could be more embarrassing. It was when the parliamentarian's daughter discovered that her friend was a virgin. Rachel could barely pronounce the word "sex" at that time. Brittany asked if she had actually kissed anyone. Rachel said no, and her friend, then, solved that problem. It wasn't just a peck. It was an open-mouthed kiss, with tongue. A real kiss-like lesson. Rachel was 15.

Brittany started asking questions and suggested that her friend should masturbate, which was easy and fun, and healthy. Then she lifted her skirt and showed Rachel where she should touch herself when she got home, and how to do it. Rachel practically ran home uncomfortable and with the strong image of Brittany circling the tip of her index finger on her own clitoris, even over her panties. Rachel saw even the stain of moisture that appeared on the cloth. The image made her embarrassed in the same proportion as she had left curious and aroused. How would it be? Then that night, she touched herself for sexual purposes for the first time: and she liked it.

"That's sad," Quinn remarked seriously.

"Sad?" Rachel was confused and even slightly offended.

"Sad because you deserve to be with someone, Rach. I mean, you deserve live something real with someone who also likes you. Kurt is your friend, Brittany is your friend, and Finn is a tremendous idiot who are now a brown shirt. That's not enough... we need to have some love, you know? A real one."

"Have you ever loved anyone, by any chance?"

"Once I thought so, but that person was forbidden inside my head, and then I found out that she already had someone."

"Forbidden why?"

"For being a woman," Quinn said softly.

"This woman was Santana?" Rachel's eyes widened and Quinn burst into laughter.

"Not everything is solved in our Circle of Buttons, Rach. This person wasn't Santana. Although I don't deny that I found her very attractive and sexy. "

"So, who?"

"Kyra Mason. She is the younger sister of Bill Mason, whom my father told me to date once. Kyra was interesting, cheerful, full of energy. I hated her brother, but going to the Mason house was worth it because of Kyra. One day she kissed me... and it was a great kiss. It was the best secret I kept for a long time. But then some things happened: Bill broke up with me and Kyra came along with her boyfriend one day. I was happy when I got rid of Bill, but devastated to see her with a guy. "

"Quinn? Are you gay?" Rachel asked in wonder.

"I don't know. I've had sex with a woman because Ed Bloom liked to watch two girls fucking each other. Her name was Clara. God... he used to watch and then... have sex with both. Anyway, I'd rather be touched by her than by him. At least she was kind to me."

"Oh... well... I confess I don't really know what I am either."

"Elaborate!" Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"When Brittany kissed me, she made me feel things... I thought about Brittany for a long time in a rather fraternal way, but I was afraid to show something because she was with Santana, and Santana is like a sister to me."

"Do you have feelings for Brittany?"

"I don't anymore. It was only a crush. But the feeling of being kissed by a girl wasn't bad. I don't know if it's because that was my first experience. I just know that Brittany made my body wake up. And we only kissed that day! And so did Sam... "

"Sam? I knew there was something going on between the two of you!"

"I'm not talking about him the way you're thinking. I'm sure if I wanted something more, it's possible we could date. It's just that, thinking right now, I have this good friend and we spend a lot of time together... and there was never anything that made me look at him in a different way. "

"But you looked at Finn."

"Finn is handsome, he is popular, he is the main male soloist of our glee club, and Mr. Schue puts us to make a bunch of duets. Don't blame me for thinking Finn and I could be a possibility."

"For those who actually dated him, I still don't understand. Your life, your feelings, right?"

"At least now I understand why you went ahead with a one-sided factional dating with Finn." Rachel pointed out.

"Do you think I'm really gay?"

"I mean the feeling of normalcy. About Finn, I mean… you were the cliché couple: cheerleader dating the quarterback. Everyone in school was envious of you. Don't judge me, but I think living this appearance relationship was better than what happened to you because of your father. Still everybody knew that you avoided him a lot! Now you're telling me that you had a crush on a girl and had sex with a woman."

"It wasn't really my choice to have sex with a woman."

"But you said you rather be touched by her."

"You're not wrong." Quinn sighed. "But that doesn't solve this doubt about my own sexuality."

"You know, I'm envious of our friends. Because once you're sure of what it is, everything gets better, at least inside your head."

"Living where we live, none of this becomes simpler, quite the opposite. But I agree with you. To be sure of what it is, decomposes many things. Maybe I'm really gay. Maybe I'm something else..."

"What's missing for you to find out?"

"Find that one." Quinn stared at Rachel for a few seconds and it was a moment to both of them catch their breath. "I mean, not necessarily THE one, but that one that can help me understand what really goes on right here. I had sex with men without really getting emotionally involved with them. I blamed my father for this. On the other hand, I had sex with Puck once because I wanted. The result was the same. So, I don't really know. I hope that one can help me."

"Oh…"

Quinn sighed as she saw her friend without reaction. It was late at night and she was tired.

"Good night, Rachel."

"Good night, Quinn."

Rachel finished dinner and clean the kitchen before go to bed. She thought about all the talking with Quinn, about her own feelings and her body's desires. She was tense and needed some relief. Even as a virgin in a certain point of view, Rachel was aware of her own body and the pleasures of self-stimulation. Under the blanket (a condition for masturbate, since she was terrified of being caught doing it), naked from the waist down, legs open, breathing deeply and swallowing any moan, she started gently touching herself. First she stimulated her clitoris with gentle circular motions. With her other hand she started rubbing her own breasts. She felt the very moisture spreading over her vulva, everything was pulsing, that was her cue to penetrate herself with two fingers.

She moved the fingers inside herself in quick movements. She was overcome by the sensation of pleasure, at the same time she questioned her own modesty. Then she thought that if she had no problems with her sexuality, why did she still get carried away by so many taboos? Should she continue to be so picky about who to relate to? She was already 18 years old and had never really dated anyone. Rachel thought that was pathetic. Psychologists said that there was no right age to start dating or lose the virginity. It was all a matter of choice, right? Of being mentally and physically prepared. She herself became famous for an iconic speech in the middle school that girls also want to have sex as much as boys (coincidentally days after she masturbated for the first time). She thought that perhaps it was time to open her heart a little more and consider new possibilities. And when she decided to try and allow herself, she let the orgasm flow.

As she caught her breath, she didn't know that in the front door, Quinn, completely naked on the bed, was also masturbating.

Quinn didn't have the same fears as Rachel to be caught in her own room. She didn't cover herself, and she was enjoying penetrating herself with her fingers and rubbing her clit. When Quinn climaxed, she whispered the name of the person she was fantasizing about.

"Rachel."

...

Monday has arrived. With it, the restart of athletic training, classes, everything. Rachel noticed a different mood among the cheerios in the locker room and tried to listen to the conversation.

"I knew she was a subversive," said one cheerleader.

"They say she fled to the East," said another.

"It seems like her mission was to spread communism among the students." Another said as if she was horrified by the danger that lay next door.

Rachel rolled her eyes and wore her training uniform. The weather was still bad for training in the field, so the coach ordered only a lightweight race to start the semester.

The first thing Rachel noticed when she put on her regular clothes and went to attend classes was that Puck's fascist group had grown. In addition to the jocks, girls also joined the gang.

"Rachel!" Puck scared her with a slap in the locker next to hers and spoke with some satisfaction. "Did you see what happened to your little friend? They say she ran off like a rat. Beware or your fate will be the same if you continue to walk with a bunch of subversives."

"Santana wasn't a subversive," Rachel snarled. "Nothing was found that would incriminate her in her house... or in Sam's house, or in my room, or in Quinn's apartment, or in Mercedes', Mike's, and Tina's houses!"

"This guy decided to toast your patience this early?!" Sam reached for Puck and acted like he was bored. Rachel tugged at his shirt and kissed him on the lips, leaving Puck unsmiling. The brown shirt left they alone for that time. Then Sam's eyes widened at her friend. "Wow! What happened here?"

"He really thinks we're fucking... It doesn't cost anything to reinforce the impression," Rachel said almost indifferently.

"OK but..."

"It's no big deal, okay? It's better to frighten him than fight. We still have to live with him at school."

"Don't remind me!"

Quinn and Kurt walked through the hallways hand in hand and exchanged little pecks. Witnessing such an interaction made Rachel uncomfortable. Finn seemed constantly irritated with the new "couple". Artie tried new attacks on Brittany, but was fumbled by one of the buttons, together or alternately. The novelty was Mercedes, Mike and Tina, whose assistance was neglected during the winter break. The action of the agents left Mike fearful and he went to wear the brown shirt symbol of the fascist government, much also because of the bad experience in the march. Tina didn't accept that her boyfriend had "given up". Rachel tried to watch the journalist more closely because of that attitude. Mercedes was still neutral. She preferred to concentrate on artistic activities and not talk about the past.

"We have three missions to accomplish this semester." Schuester began to address as soon as the choir returned to meet after classes. "One is finding new members. We need at least one more, but I wouldn't complain if we were able to attract more people. Maybe our qualification for the final in the capital will attract new members. This brings us to mission two, which is to organize a presentation that is very attractive and can effectively draw attention in this school. The third and most important is to prepare the music's for the finals."

Then Rachel held up her hand, which was expected.

"Mr. Schue, I have some ideas."

"Not a duet with Finn. We always lose!" Kurt scorned and Finn glared at him.

"Also no unreleased songs... we lost last year with this story," Artie grunted. "Not to mention it gives more work to all of us."

"Actually, I was thinking of doing Motown medleys. Make a great celebration to the golden age of when quality music wasn't banned in our country!"

"I can't believe this is the first good idea I heard come out of your mouth, mate!" Mercedes got up and almost punched the air.

"What is Motown?" Finn asked.

"It means music with soul." Sam replied with a smile in the corner of his eyes. "A black soul that born at a time when our country was still breathing!"

"A lot of the songs of this era are still allowed and they are great songs, no doubt." Schuester pondered. "But I don't know... I don't want to give an impression of confrontation, especially after some of you have passed."

"We don't want confrontations, Mr. Schue." Mercedes argued. "But we need a soul now!"

The group promised to think about the idea and Rachel vibrated. It also had its own goals to be reached as far as the capital. The first one was successfully completed. Now she needed to plan to overcome Mercedes and be the star of the show. It was the opportunity for her to show herself to a really impressive audience, not any more to the three or four dozen people who used to attend regional competitions. The finals in the capital were held in a large theater and used to receive some celebrities, politicians and artists. Maybe Rachel could draw attention to some specific people. People like Lester Goldman.


	21. Brittany's party

Parliamentarian Pierce was highly respected for the sobriety in which he led his political life. He was a training lawyer, married to the science teacher Susan Pierce, and they had two lovely daughters. The society was amazed when it witnessed the fight of the Pierces in guaranteeing their oldest daughter's right to study in a normal school. Brittany Susan Pierce has dyslexia but managed to get around her difficulties at school with the help of her parents and colleagues. As a prize, Brittany will be able to graduate from school at the age of 19 and she can choose to attend both Fashion and arts program for Modern Dance. It was a win for the family. Brittany's story is just one of the things that makes the life of Mr. Pierce so admired, even though he is a man of so-called internal opposition, once the country lived under a totalitarian regime.

Parliamentarian Pierce was a respected opponent at the national parliament under the strong wrist of the premier Tom Brooks. The biggest political clash was for Russell Fabray, but his extremist's attitudes were held by his own colleagues in the name of diplomacy and a pseudodemocracy, since the popular vote was allowed to form municipal parliaments. Everyone knew that Pierce and the reformist representatives were a minority, with almost all of this minority is talking to Buttons.

Of course this was a desirable situation in the inner circles of the secret society. While the shallower buttons did the necessary manual work, while the other independent groups made the interesting and necessary confrontation (and saved many of the buttons from dirtying their hands), the so-called high circle of Buttons mapped out strategies for system changes within itself system. This was the role of people like Pierce: it was guys like him who could politically dismantle power-hungry extremists, such as Russell Fabray.

By his role of moderator, Pierce was one of the most important buttons. He is one of the members of the circle of the eight, as it is called the most powerful Buttons: there are eight leaders who make all the major decisions of the organization. Pierce is one of the two politicians who make up the highest circle. It was this national circle that decided all the movements of the buttons in the hard work in trying to break the dictatorial power of the premier and to re-establish the full democratic process and the rights of the citizen. It wasn't an easy task. There were limitations because of the strong influence of the Southern Alliance, which practically supported the dictatorial government economically. The people were forbidden to speak out, and popular leaders struggled to articulate themselves because of the innumerable restrictions on communication channels. And the premier Brooks still made a point of leaving the military very satisfied.

The Buttons' solution was to think of a strategy articulated in the medium-long term while they worked to the mute to keep the machine operating and taking care of theirs. This included the well-being of the shallow buttons.

What Rachel knew about the upper circles came from Santana's files. Here was the information that Pierce was the main button in the region, but not even Santana was able to make an accurate mosaic of the entire operational structure that served them. Santana knew something about the highest circle, two or three members, the functions performed in each group. She estimated that there were between 200 and 250 buttons in their region, which Rachel thought was a very small number, but which, on the other hand, made sense of what she herself knew. Deep down, that particular piece of information was just a bore to her. What interested her was being able to talk alone with Pierce. She knew he was a person who can get her out of the country and that he was a better shot than trying to find Lester Goldberg.

"Why so many bills?" Quinn asked curiously. She was using the calculator while Rachel is concentrated writing her own notes on the Santana's HD.

"That's the adult life!" Rachel answered in monotone.

"We're going to pay for this month's condo fee, but there's little left for our essential expenses, like food. My savings are in the limit. Do you think Gilmore can get your money until next month?"

"Maybe. Still, I will need to make a projection for the next few months of my savings money. I want to fiddle with my parents' heritage only in the last case."

"You managed to make good savings, right? I mean, ever since we started living together, I don't see you talking about get a job. And I remember that you were always looking for one to the point of accepting to work at the parties offered by my mother."

"I'm full of things to do... I started getting some kind of allowance to work in the second circle. Well... it's basically a help for gasoline and for food, but there's always some left over. It doesn't replace a job, but it's helps as I rearrange my schedule."

"Is that how Santana saved all that money?"

"Still thinking about that money?"

"We start thinking about money when it's rare." Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"Welcome to the world of the less privileged, Quinn!" Rachel set the computer aside for a minute and sat down next to her friend. "Suddenly I'm feeling like I'm 30 years old."

"You love drama, Rach." Quinn took her friend's hand. "Speaking of youth, you're going to Britt's party, right?"

"Yes I will. I thought we'd go together, unless you had other plans."

"The only plan I have is to stay with Kurt at the party and then come home. But we can go together."

"Is it my impression or are you enjoying this story of being a beard?"

"You know what? I have this guy next to me who smells incredibly well, has soft lips, is fun, treats me very well, and best of all: I don't need to go to bed with him or even make excuses ragged to avoid having sex! It's like heaven!"

"Beware Fabray, you can fall in love with the one you shouldn't!"

"Kurt?" Quinn scoffed. "Please, Berry!" She turned to the television as if trying to disguise the redness of her face. "If I need to choose to live an impossible love, it wouldn't be with him."

"Who would it be?" Rachel teased. "With that girl you told about?"

"I don't know. It's not that my list of possibilities is full today. With whom would you live an impossible love? Santana?"

"Oh please!" Rachel shook her head. "It would feel like incest. I mean, I really love Santana, but not like that."

"And what about Brittany? Since you kissed her and had a crush on her?" There was a bit of jealousy in Quinn voice, but Rachel didn't notice it like that.

"Neither she, nor any of the boys in our circle, nor the rest of the Glee Club."

"Not even with me?"

"It depends. Would our love be impossible?" It was Rachel's turn to tease.

"Would be?"

"I asked first!" Rachel was petulant in her tone.

"Well, my experience with women was better than my experiences with men. And as for you... as far as I know... you have an open mind. We live together, we get along, and you're very charming, Rachel Berry. For my part, it wouldn't be impossible... but a possibility. "

"Are you flirting with me, Quinn Fabray?" Rachel said playfully and smiled. Inside, she felt very envious.

"Maybe…" Quinn smiled.

"And do you think it's a good idea to looking for a real relationship right now?"

"I'm saying that life has taught me that the human being can be very cruel, especially when it needs to maintain power. This made me an unbelieving and sometimes angry person. But there's still a part of me that says people can be good and that we can enjoy each other. It's just that part that keeps me from locking the doors in here." She pointed to his own heart.

"I know being forced to do the things your father asked for must have been awful, but otherwise, were your other experiences so bad?" Rachel was curious about this part of Quinn's life. After all, it was no secret that she slept with Puck, but Rachel was intrigued by how she managed to date Finn for so long without having sex with him. Rachel just didn't understand.

"Please!" Quinn rolled her eyes. "You talk about this strangeness because you're still a virgin, Berry."

"I know my body, Quinn."

"Okay, so you jerk off! Congratulations to you, Berry. But know that being touched by another person is very different. It's not always good."

"That is why I'm asking. For not knowing this part."

"The truth, Rachel, is that I'm not a good reference to talk about relationships, because I didn't have any real one. Any of my experiences involved love. If you really want to know about it, ask, I don't know, Brittany or Kurt. The only advice I can truly give you is that it's worth waiting for the right person. Or at least the one that's right at that moment."

"I think it's fair. Thanks."

"Just don't try too hard, okay? Wait, things will happen in its own time."

The subject seemed to have died. Quinn rose from the sofa. She went to the kitchen and washed what was dirty. She felt that Rachel's eyes were still on her.

"What is it, Berry?"

"You said we are a possibility! This is so insane!"

"You never forget! That's annoying!"

Quinn shook her head and smiled, as if she didn't even believe it.

"We need to get ready for Britt's party." Quinn said. "I hope there's decent food there."

...

Brittany's 19-year-old party was an event like any other for teenagers: it started in the middle of the afternoon so it would end at 9 p.m because of curfews in the city. There was a DJ cheering, a dance floor in the blackened party room with black tarps so that the black and colored lights could replicate the nightclub mood. All of the school's popular boys and girls and illustrious sons of society were there. Even the buttons and the Glee Club. Whoever didn't want to stay on the dance floor, took advantage of the nice food and drinks.

Quinn was soon in the dance with Kurt and the others. Rachel smiled to see her friends in a moment of pure relaxation and allowed herself to contemplate the picture perfect before joining the dance floor with them. As the party progressed, Brittany abused alcohol more and more. Rachel ordered Blaine to keep an eye on her. She would be impressed with herself after she stopped to think of the words she used. At that time, she acted as the natural leader and she tried to prevent possible damage. Mike and Tina began to fend off one corner of the makeshift nightclub. Matt tried to approach. He who was the closest to Mike at the time they studied together at middle school. Puck thought that was his business. Matt opted for diplomacy. At least Mercedes and Quinn were there to help her friend. Fortunately, the crisis was soon resolved.

Finn, after drinking more than necessary, pushed Kurt because he was dancing behind Quinn in a funny way, as if he was having sex from behind and faking some slaps to the girlfriend's butt.

"This is a family party here. How about keeping things PG?"

Kurt wasn't a person who used to react to aggressions, and was shocked by his "brother" seemed that he wanted to tear out Kurt's liver. Finn continued to test Kurt and push him away even though Quinn screamed it was none of his ex-boyfriend's business - even felt like rolling his eyes. Quinn wondered how Finn would react if he knew she had other men on his back? If Finn was violent with Kurt because he got the "ex", that told him a lot about what he was capable of doing. But Kurt was a button: which meant that, for all his pacifist posture, he wasn't afraid to fight.

After receiving another push from Finn, Kurt countered the blow in the same proportion. That was when Finn unjustifiably punched him. Kurt, lighter and more agile, recovered quickly and kicked his brother in a low blow. He took advantage of the fact that Finn bowed in pain to punch him in the jaw, which knocked the big man down. Some brown shirts that were there reacted in Finn's favour. The buttons got into the fight to help Kurt, especially Sam, Blaine and Matt. The DJ stopped playing, the white lights were on and Mr. Pierce was called.

"If you keep fighting, stay away from my house!" Pierce shouted, accompanied by two personal security guards.

The mood subsided, and in the meantime Rachel was already pulling all the buttons close, an action not missed by Pierce. She led all, but Brittany, in the chill of the garden of the mansion.

"Finn started it!" Kurt was soon defending himself.

"No one's blaming you," Rachel said softly. "I just brought you all here so the moods will cool off."

"And it had to be so literal?" Seban complained, hugging his own body feeling the nuisance of the heat shock.

"It's just personal time!" Matt winked at the 'first'. "Those fools were willing to fight from the start."

"The point is that Mr. Pierce can't make headlines because of a teen fight at his house. It would be a full plate for the fascists cretins if brown shirts were mistreated or something like that in his house." Everyone looked at Seban. "What? It is classic strategy of political war: cause bad publicity. I bet they were instructed..."

"It could be true if Finn wasn't an idiot. He acted like he's some heroic guy, but deep down he's just a manchild." Quinn scoffed.

The security guards stayed and the DJ's music resumed, but it looked as though the party would be closed sooner than planned. The buttons came back into the dance floor, except for Rachel, who took the opportunity to go after the parliamentarian when she saw him walking toward the main house: she knew that this was an opportunity she couldn't pass up. Besides, Matt would handle the rest of the group.

"Mr. Pierce!" She shouted and the MP stopped to answer the girl.

"What was Rachel?"

"Could I have five minutes with you?"

"Look, Rachel, you better go back to the party and help our own. It's your obligation now."

"It's Matt's obligation," she corrected nervously. "And they'll be fine... they know what to do. I only ask five minutes!" She looked pleadingly.

"Ok... Let's go to my office."

Rachel had walked into the Pierce mansion countless times, but she had never been near the office. It was always the front door, downstairs to the luxurious basement, and at most she would visit the kitchen to make snacks. As much as she went to that house, talking to Pierce was a feat, so she was nervous as she followed him to the door of dark solid wood. Entering the office, Rachel saw that the atmosphere was much more sober than she had imagined: crowded bookcases, two pictures on the wall, family photos on the table, some albums and a stereo on another piece of furniture in the corner of the room. And the classic minibar. She imagined that a man like him had a safe somewhere, or kept a computer without connections, as Santana had. The parliamentarian invited her to sit down in front of the work table. It was as if Pierce was dealing with business with anyone else.

"What do you want, Rachel?" He waved his hands, looking exhausted.

"I want to get out!" The sudden, honest response brought laughter to the floor, making Rachel uneasy. "Seriously..." She pondered the tone. "I need a license to leave the country and you could easily give a concession on my passport!"

"East?" He said incredulously.

"Where else?"

"Rachel, not even I can travel to the East without a diplomatic concession. Our borders are closed to that side as you know too well. If you asked me to go to Texas, it would be much simpler to get the exit and entry visas. The East, at the moment, is a complicated affair."

"But Santana left!"

"Listen well. Santana is part of a key project for our plans. You are part of another plan. Hers involves training abroad. Yours is to help in the fight here."

"It's not fair, Mr. Pierce! The buttons preach both the struggle for freedom and rights ... but in practice it's not what we experience within the organization."

" I would like to know at what point in life are you really free to do what you please? I don't think there is a single person in the world who is not tied to someone or to some responsibility. This is a point. The other point is that the buttons are freer than any person in this nation. You are free because you are aware, you are free to know. Fighting for that was a choice, Rachel. A choice! Not a levy. Once you chose us, you know that sacrifices need to be made so that a greater good can be achieved. We can't give up our structures if we are to win this war. I know it's not easy for you and your friends, but it's not easy for me either."

Pierce's firm stare made Rachel retreat. It was no wonder that the man was a leader: he could intimidate anyone only with his eyes. Rachel gave herself a few seconds, took a deep breath, and resisted the urge to run away.

"Sir, I may have expressed myself badly," Rachel said, still trembling, but more aware that she needed caution to speak to a powerful man like Pierce. "I would like an opportunity to leave because, with all due respect, I could make better use of it if I could be a political refugee in the East. I could develop my true vocation for the arts and become a voice in favour of democratization and reopening of our country."

"With all due respect, Rachel, but being the young spokesperson for democratization is a role that is going to be for someone else. From your circle, inclusive. I know you want to be an artist, I respect your desires and admire your perseverance. I would be happy to put you in the School of Arts in the capital where you can develop your talent. But getting you out of the country is something I can't do without a very good reason, and without you really deserving."

"Sir..." Rachel tried to argue.

"I'm amazed that you're not happy with all the benefits that are being given to you." Pierce cut her off. "The contact with your mother, your leaving the orphanage, the fact that you have been well cared for so far, the direct and indirect benefits you received as one of us... for all this you don't think you should be more patient and humble?" Suddenly he got up from his chair, walked over to the minibar, and poured himself some brandy, not bothering to offer a dose to the girl. He took a full swallow and took a deep breath.

"Sorry for my intransigence, sir." Rachel decided to step back, but it was a strategic move. "I'm so grateful for all the buttons they gave me. Being part of this organization is a privilege and I am faithful to our cause to the end. Santana... you have to understand that her sudden departure was a thud... Santana is like a sister to me. She took care of me and sorted things out. Suddenly she left, I was kicked out to Puckerman's house, I had to took care of a circle, and I am practically Quinn Fabray's nanny. It's not that simple and I'm just a teenager..."

"You're constitutionally an adult."

"With all due respect you understood me!"

Pierce looked at the young woman in front of him and needed to acknowledge that there were valid points in her arguments.

"I wish I could do more for you and everyone else. I really do. But we must fulfill our obligations to win this war, and your task is to stay and learn until you can take on more important roles in our circles."

"I see... but could you do me a favour? Of these favours I couldn't ask anyone else?"

"As long as it's not a ticket to the East, I can think about it. What is it?"

"How could I contact Lester Goldman?"

The mention of the name caught Pierce by surprise and this was evident from the parliamentarian's expression. It was obvious that he didn't expect Rachel Berry, his daughter's friend, to have heard about that man who belongs to the circle of the eight.

"What do you know about him?"

"I know he's one of the few people in this country with a free pass to the East, and he's connected to business transactions of some sort." Rachel thanked Santana's files mentally. "Mr Goldman is known as a bon vivant, which is one of the key pieces in the knot in the capital." The second part of the information was a shot in the dark. Judging by the parliamentarian's expression, she hit the mark. And she didn't even need to be so precise.

"Where did you get this information?"

"Let's just say I have some surprises, too." Rachel smiled confident now that she had a new trump card in her sleeves.

"Is that all you know about Goldman?"

"Yes."

"Rachel..." He pressed.

"Okay... I know he can be my biological father and I think that's why I get so many direct and indirect button privileges. I have no idea why he never came to me and didn't even want to take me when my parents were tried and executed just because they were gay. I don't know why a man with his position would let me be in the foster program with a radon family. Anyway, now that you know I know, don't you think it would be fair for me to have five minutes with Mr. Goldman?"

Pierce stared at Rachel. He couldn't hide such a surprise, and he didn't expect that girl could turn the negotiations around like that.

"Well... I'll keep you informed. Until then, keep doing your job."

"Thank you." Rachel got up.

Rachel went back to the party. The DJ had already called the guests to the cake. She saw Quinn talking to Matt. Rachel didn't resist and hugged Quinn tightly.

"Hey girl, go slow with this lady" Matt teased. "You won't want to cause another fight at this party."

Quinn looked at her with concern, apologized to Matt and pulled Rachel into a quiet corner.

"Are you all right?"

"I think I have a chance."

"Chance of what?"

"To get out. Just like you, I think I have a chance to leave."


	22. New job

Ada was a village, an isolated suburb of the great urban centers that had the agriculture fair as the only dynamic body that kept the citadel alive. Still, life was seasonal: every time there was an off-season, half of the nearly six thousand people were gone. The other half consisted primarily of the farmers themselves and their families. The railway station cut off little Ada and it was easy for these people to drain the production supplying the region and also the largest cities in the country. If the smallness of the 78,000 inhabitants sometimes left Rachel depressed with the few prospects provided, imagine a young woman like her residing in Ada? Rachel was sure she'd freak out if she lived in an agrarian village like that. Anyway, even among all that poor smallness, there was a button. And this button was the addressee of the correspondences that Rachel was assigned to deliver in Ada: she wasn't very happy about it, but that was her assigned by the new button circle that she's now part of.

She placed the larger package in the luggage box stuck in the rump of the bike that belonged to Santana and the rest inside the backpack. The pistol was well secured and hidden in the bike itself (good thing Santana had already made all those adjustments). The recommendation was that Rachel could only hidden under her jacket if it was extremely necessary.

"Try not to get stuck in anyone's house." Susan Jameson was also preparing for the same job, but in the opposite direction of Rachel's going. "Some will see that you are new and may be suspicious. Others, for that very reason, will want to hold you as long as possible to know a few things about you while you have coffee with cookies. You can accept to save money on food."

"Do you ever have a proper meal while you do this?"

"It depends on the script. Mine today is Van Wert, Decatur, Celina and St. Marys. The good spinning rank is in Celina. In your case..." She glanced at Rachel's list. "Keep the hunger for Bellefonteine. You will get there later, but Mrs. Piccadilly already knows the process and always offers something to eat. In fact, she will already be waiting for you with a meal. Just watch the time."

"I thought Bellefonteine was the responsibility of the other Core Button."

"Don't count on it because the Buttons of the larger cities act as if they had the king in the belly. They think this village community is our responsibility and it's over."

"So have you contacted them yet? With the Capital Buttons?"

"Sometimes. Enough to understand that my place is here."

"That bad?"

"It's not because we belong to the same organization that it forces us to like each other. We just need to be consistent with each other... or tolerate each other."

"True." Rachel nodded to her colleague. "Thanks for the tips." And wished her good luck before she pressed the play and adjusted the headphones before putting on her helmet.

On the way out of town, she took Ada Road and made a short trip through farms to the small village. The landscape was monotonous. Music in her headphones was the most interesting thing on the track. And when would the song stop being interesting to Rachel? Never ever! She grinned when the random selection mode began playing "Good People," one of Sam's favourite songs. Or at least it was what he loved to sing and play when he thought no one was watching. Jack Johnson wasn't a forbidden artist, but that didn't mean he didn't have some provocative lyrics.

" _Sitting around feeling far away/ so far away but i can feel the debris, can you feel it?/ you interrupt me from a friendly conversation/ to tell me how great this all going to be/ you might notice some hesitation/ because its important to you, it's not important to me/ but way down by the edge of your reason/ it's beginning to show and all i really wanna know is?_ "

And Rachel began to hum along with her eyes fixed on the road.

" _Where'd all the good people gone?/I've been changing channels i don't see them on the TV shows/ where'd all the good people gone?/ we heaps and heaps of what we saw."_

She smiled as she remembered her friend singing that song, which was his favourite style. Rachel was sure there's a place in the world for Sam. A place that would be a paradise beach to him, where he could live as a diner owner, play his guitar, and maybe surf. She smiled to herself as she imagined how great it would be to see Sam surfing, as he claimed to die of a willingness to learn, on one of those breathtaking beaches he saw through the photos on the internet. Then he would play guitar at dusk along with a group of friends and then return home. Rachel sighed. She liked to imagine happy endings for all friends, including Puck.

She imagined Kurt and Blaine together living in a beautiful house. While Blaine handled the paperwork, Kurt could hum through the house while planning scenarios and theatrical costumes. Santana and Brittany would also end up together. Santana would, of course, be a special agent who, after a risky mission, would return to Brittany's arms. Matt would be a successful chef with his own restaurant, Seban would be a great mechatronics engineering professor. Finn would be school's football coach and would be married to a woman who liked domestic life. Puck? Perhaps he would end up happily working as a mechanic and with his many affairs.

Rachel envisioned a happy ending for Quinn in the East. Curious and insightful as Quinn was, she would certainly complete college degree and be an intellectual, doing many lectures and conferences. But whenever Quinn had a quiet moment, Rachel imagined her in a good restaurant having wine having a conversation with somebody. Would they be together? Rachel couldn't deny that this was a fantasy she'd nurtured since she approached Quinn, especially when they started living together.

When she arrived in Ada, Rachel smiled as she imagined that she would accelerate further out of town in less than five minutes. After crossing the two main avenues, she entered the indicated street and looked for John Parker's house. Everything was very easy to find in that place. To lose oneself in that village would be the end: an attestation of incompetence. She got off the bike, picked up the mail, and knocked on the door. A bald man, who appeared to be almost 70 years old, answered the door and Rachel understood immediately why some people were unable to travel to the city to pick up the mail at the batcave.

"Correspondence to John Parker." Rachel had a chunky brown paper envelope in her hands.

"It's me!" The old man smiled and checked the mail. "It's been a while... and are you new?"

"I'm not a new button, but yes, I started working on deliveries today."

"It's an important job!"

"Yeah..." Rachel closed the backpack.

"Be carefully... oh." The old man caught the attention of his fellow button. "Where are you going now?"

"Kenton."

"If you're going see Louis, tell him I've sent him my greetings."

"OK. I will say it."

Rachel got on the motorcycle, and took the highway to go down to the next town, where she would leave two mailings. One was the smaller box. Kenton was a town slightly larger than Ada, with the advantage of having no seasonal population. Basically the little more than eight thousand inhabitants remained constant. Rachel entered through the center of the city and frowned at the old, decadent look she had. The cloudy weather also didn't help. Compared with that, her city was a metropolis. She consulted the references. Delivering Charles Grant's package and then Louis Buckler's letter would be the most economical course.

Mr. Grant's house was a huge, two-story, but old-looking house, in urgent need of a painting. Rachel parked the motorcycle under the tree in front of the house and went to the front porch. As she rang the bell, an adorable little girl dressed in Snow White who shouldn't have been more than four years old came to the door. She had light brown hair and big green eyes. Rachel felt in love.

"Hi, young lady! By chance, Carlos Grant is here?"

The little girl blinked a couple of times before shouting from there.

"Granddaddy! It's for you!"

Rachel started laughing at the sweetness that was the girl. Soon a woman came to the door concerned about the kid's disobedience not to answer the door because you never know who might be.

"Correspondence to Carlos Grant." Rachel repeated to the woman who was about 30 years old and has a beautiful green eyes.

"I'll call him if you don't mind waiting a little bit," The woman said politely.

Rachel nodded and waited outside. She met an old man, seemed younger and much more willing than John Parker.

"Hello, young lady," he said in a low voice, sounding like an old radio announcer.

"Mr. Grant, a letter has come to you." Rachel handed the package with a button attached to the cardboard.

"I'm glad that problem didn't come here." Grant received the order. "I was worried when I heard about... I thought my correspondence would have blown up too."

Rachel frowned and thought that perhaps he was referring to the invasion. The event in which Santana escaped alive and saved Shelby's letters.

"I'm afraid this is another order, sir. This one came from Lexington center."

"I'm glad then." He shook the box.

"Well, I'm going..."

"Thank you and good luck, girl."

She took the bike and went to the residential neighbourhood that was near the city's school. Louis Buckler's house was smaller, only one store, but it looked much better than Grant's. It was brown, with the front tidy with a well-kept hedge even in winter. It was possible to see that the garage was in the yard and everything looked very clean. Rachel knocked on the door and a lovely pink-cheeked lady answered.

"Correspondence to Louis Buckler."

"Oh, I'll call my husband. Just a minute."

Two minutes before a black old man appeared. Rachel frowned and found amusing to see an interracial elderly couple living in a small town like that. It was something she didn't expected to find because if interracial marriages weren't common in the country these days, imagine at the time that couple was young? It was to be astonished to see that the two endured prejudices and survived together.

"I'm Louis Buckler." He saw the envelope with the button fixed. "Oh, I've never seen you before. Are you new?"

"In this work, yes." The man reached out to greet Rachel.

"What's your name, young lady?"

"Rachel Berry."

"Berry? Berry of Hiram Berry? "Rachel nodded and smiled back.

"How do you Know?"

"Lucky gess!" The old man smiled. "I've know two Berrys in my life. One was my student and I heard that his kid was a button now. Don't you want to come in?"

"I'd really like a glass of water, if that's not too much."

"Come in little girl... take five minutes before go back to the road!"

The Buckler's room was cozy and Rachel soon thought they should be the grandparents of dreams when she saw the comfortable furniture, the piano full of family photos and the fireplace. She sat down on the couch and waited for the glass of water.

"So you were my dad's teacher?"

"Professor, actually. Hiram was my student in college. One of the best I've had. He kept protesting for everything including the cafeteria menu. Hiram was comical! "And the expression fell as Mrs. Buckler poured the water. "I used to tell Hiram to date a family girl, but he only had eyes for that Leroy... And when they joined your mother, they turned into a hellish trio." The tone was longing. "How funny... the day they were executed, I retired."

"Was my dad a button? I mean, I knew he was involved in anti-government activities, but no one ever told me anything about it."

"He wasn't one of us. He could have been, though... he wasn't one of us because he was not a very disciplined man and was always shouting around." Rachel smiled. Hiram wasn't really a person who spoke low or kept opinions to himself. "The buttons took care of him in the distance, you know? I liked him a lot and asked my classmates to keep an eye on the three stooges when they graduated from college. Shelby had already had you and then made an asexual marriage with those two, you know? That was how I saw their relationship, at least. When I heard that she had crossed the border and that you had stayed with Hiram and Leroy, well, I thought those two would need a little more help and I did everything in my power. But I also have my own family, I also have my own life."

"You did take care of me?" Rachel was genuinely surprised. "I'm a button because of you?"

"You're a button because you accept to be one. But let's say that I asked my fellows to look after you."

"I… thank you sir." Rachel forced a friendly smile.

"Anyway, I'm happy to have you on the team, Rachel Berry. I'm a little out of the way in the circles because I retired from this life too, you know? The buttons also retire..."

"Of course! Your retirement is well deserved. "

"Are not you hungry?" Mrs. Buckler asked. "Lunch is almost set. We'll have roast beef."

"It would be great, but I still need to go to Bellefontaine."

"Then let me make some sandwiches for you to eat on the way. It won't take more than ten minutes."

"Okay, but only if you let me help you!"

Yes, those were the grandparents Rachel wished she had lived with. While helping Mrs. Buckler put together two hearty sandwiches with lettuce, tomato, cheese (she dispensed the ham for being Jewish) and olive paste, Louis told fast stories about Hiram. Funny things about her father like the little pranks he used on friends and teachers. Rachel walked out with a packet of sandwiches wrapped in plastic bag and was grateful for the unexpected gift. She almost forgot to give John Parker's friendly message. Rachel replenished the motorcycle and made her way down highway. The route was the longest. She realized that it was good to resist the temptation to stay for lunch at the Buckler's. Bellefontaine was a larger city of almost 14 thousand inhabitants. Physically it was much nicer than the previous two. Rachel tried to make deliveries quickly until she reached Mrs. Margaret Piccadilly's house.

It was a small house painted pale green in a clear and pleasant tone. It was two store house and a mezzanine as the facade already denounced. There was a couch on the porch, and the garage was in the yard, like a good part of the state homes. Nothing unusual. At the notice of her fellow colleague, Rachel hoped to find a nice old woman who was already waiting her with a lunch bag in hand. The actual Margaret Piccadilly was another story. She wasn't that old, but the expression and the marks on her face betrayed a difficult life.

"What do you want here?" Rachel could have sworn she had a shotgun by the door.

"Correspondence!" She held the envelope out with the button attached to tape.

The woman took what was her due, thanked her coolly and closed the door on Rachel's face, who was astonished. Then Rachel shook her head in disbelief. Leave Piccadilly last? Susan was a troll. Rachel went to a convenience store to buy a soda. Right there, sitting on a public bench, she devoured the two sandwiches prepared by Mrs. Buckler. If it weren't for that blessed snack, she would have to spend some more of the money she was willing to save. Then, she faced another two-and-a-half hours on the road back home on a monotonous route.

It was early night when Rachel got home. She was exhausted. Still, she went to the headquarters first to quit everything she delivered. A little bureaucracy that existed just to have the least amount of control. Some circle colleagues were there. Ayala was talking with Reynolds about things that would probably interest Rachel, but she only thought about laying her head on the pillow. At home, she found a note from Quinn attached to the refrigerator magnet. Quinn said that she had gone out with Brittany and that there was food in the refrigerator. Rachel didn't turn around and heated the portion in the microwave. She devoured the meal, had her well-deserved shower and collapsed on the bed.

...

"Berry!" Rachel woke up frightened by Quinn shaking her lightly.

"What time is it?" She rubbed her cheek.

"Nine o'clock."

"At night?" He yawned.

"In the morning! When I got home yesterday, you were dead to the world!"

"Hmmm."

"There's coffee, I made some toast, and that was in our mail box."

Quinn handed a sealed envelope identifying only the recipient: Rachel Berry. There was a button inside, as well as a note. She looked at Quinn who looked anxious. It took her colleague to understand that the leader needed space.

"Why can't I know?" Quinn complained.

"Because it's a private matter and you still have shallow button constraints."

"This hierarchy sucks."

"I've spent years complaining about the same thing." Rachel smiled at the memories of the countless times she begged Santana for things and received countless black buttons. "Close the door please?"

"You have no sense of fun, Berry." Quinn left the room slamming the door lightly.

Rachel opened the envelope and didn't immediately recognize who the yellow button was. It wasn't from anyone in the two circles in which she acted. The note was coded. This part was easy to solve. She picked up a notebook and transcribed the message.

"Goldman will be in the country on Tuesday and will remain until the weekend. Head to the capital on Thursday, contact Richard Brian at the general headquarters and tell him that Pierce sent you. He'll be on the same page."

Rachel assumed the button was from Pierce himself. The problem was that she had no idea where the general headquarters was in Detroit. Reynolds probably knew, but she would only like to look for him in the last case.

"Quinn!" She left the room and found her roommate reading a magazine.

"What's it?"

"Lend me the computer, please?"

"Are you going to tell me what the note is about?"

"No!" Rachel started a game of looks that was difficult to win.

"Okay" Quinn conceded.

Rachel took the HD from Santana and searched for possible addresses of venues. There were 17 known in the region and in the other major cities, but no catalog of the capital. Rachel wondered who else could have the address of the capital's headquarters other than Reynolds or Mr. Pierce himself. Then she remembered a person.

"Where are you going?" Quinn was curious to see Rachel dressing hastily.

"To visit a fellow."

"Button?" Quinn was bored.

"Yes. I'll try to come back early."

"OK."

Rachel got on the bike and headed for the house of the person who helped her and Sam in an unpleasant meeting with agents a few months ago. She knocked on George Peterson's door.

"Rachel Berry!" He smiled. "How's your friend?"

"Sam looks great, thank God."

"Good..." George looked at her, waiting to know why she was standing at his front door.

"Mr. Peterson, I don't know how far you know about the inner ring system, but I really need help and I don't want to use certain channels for particular reasons."

"What are you looking for?" He let her in. Rachel took a deep breath.

"Do you know where the general headquarters of the capital is?"

"What do you want with the old radicals?"

"If I tell you that my chance to be happy depends on knowing this address, would you tell me?"

"I'll say you to sit on the couch and tell your story first as far as you can tell."

"Deal"

By the end of the story, Rachel knew she had a new ally.


	23. Yellow road

Rachel looked at the small room and thought of all the madness she was about to make. All because of a dream that she thought she couldn't accomplish, but that damn hope made her move on. She packed her backpack, nothing more than two changes of clothes, a toothbrush, a comb, a pistol (she hated how she's already connected to that weapon).

"I can't believe you're going to take this madness forward." Quinn spotted her friend packing things from her bedroom door. "Rachel, think carefully: how are you going to move from here to the capital just to try to find a person that you're not even sure if he will want to see you?"

"That's why it's called 'take a chance' Quinn! Like the song you love."

"But who is this guy and why is he so important?"

"Look, you're going to have to trust me, okay? If all goes well, I'll be back on Friday and, most importantly, I'm just going to miss an athletic training and a rehearsal."

"You're going to miss the tests. "

"How to make tests at this time was the guarantee of something? My fate is already set. I'm not going to college."

"You're going to get out of this hole..." Quinn repeated, rolling her eyes and waving her hands. She was worried about her friend. "Rachel, you should expect a better opportunity. A safer one."

"Quinn, no matter what, you're getting out of here. The only thing you need to do is not get into trouble or infuriate the wrong people. I'm trying to do my duty to keep you out of trouble, okay? You behave and we're okay. Simple like that. But the reality is that I won't leave if I don't take this chance!" Rachel sat frustrated in her own bed. "Pierce said that to me. I can even develop a career as an actress or singer, and that's what I'd like to do, but not here. If I have a way out, it's in the capital."

"Dealing with what kind of people, Rachel?!"

"Buttons!" She said loudly, frustrated. Then she took a deep breath and tried to tone down the conversation. "I don't know how to explain you in detail, because they lack me. Inside the buttons there are some people who have free pass. They are like smugglers and mercenaries who make a lot of money and are primarily responsible for funding our organization."

"Is it with these people that you are going to negotiate? Smugglers?"

"Even those who act in the banditry follow the plan established by the larger circle of the buttons. If it weren't so, they would be dissidents using another name. But not. They are buttons like us." She ran her hand through her hair. "From what I've heard, one of these main button, Lester Goldman, loves music, art and women. If I can persuade him to help me because I may have more utility being an actress out there than working in here, I'll have a chance. He, by himself, can put me out."

"Are you sure this guy will meet you?"

"No! Still, I need to take a chance. It's not that I'm going to risk my life or something. Far from it."

"I won't let you go alone." Quinn started to move. She went to her own room and emptied her backpack from the books. Then she looked at her wardrobe looking for a change of clothes.

"You're not going with me!" Rachel went to Quinn's room to protest. "It's an order."

"To hell with your order, Rachel Berry. I didn't follow all your drama to stay here all this time biting my nails for you. Of course I'll go with you!"

"But what about school? You have tests!" Rachel tried to persuade with the same arguments Quinn had tried to use before.

"Fuck the tests. I'm leaving here and not going through the tests! Rachel, this is important and I want to go with you."

Rachel shook her head and tried to hold back a smirk. What was Quinn doing with her feelings?

"Okay, we're going to leave after school. If all goes well, we'll be back in time to spend Santana's birthday with her parents."

"Are you going to celebrate her birthday?"

"Like every year I do."

"Are you serious?"

"Maribel always makes strawberry pie with chocolate, Santana's favourite. We have lunch, talk nonsense, sing a song and eat the dessert. Then Santana went out to celebrate as she pleased with whom she pleased. But this familiar part was sacred and I had the privilege of attending it every year. That's why when we get back, I'm going to the Lopez house to celebrate my friend's birthday."

Quinn nodded. It was still hard to believe that Santana and Rachel had such a close relationship outside of school. But again, only when she became a button that she understood the whole theater behind many of the postures and relations between them.

Quinn had no training with the cheerios on Wednesday morning. It was a day off. Instead, Rachel went to training. The button had good pole vaulting technique and even found it fun to run down the parallel lane, jump still on low heights and fall on the soft mattress on her back. At the end of training and after the shower, Rachel left her backpack inside the locker in the changing rooms. She tried to get through the day normally, which meant attending classes, talking to friends - who were limited to Tina and Mercedes, and the buttons - and rehearsing.

Rachel thought that the number proposed to honour the classic Motown was pure genius. Even Puck and Artie collaborated a little bit. Finn felt insecure and discredited because his type of voice didn't fit the songs proposed for the male vocal. Not even Sam's timbre, but he didn't mind leading. Rehearsals came to an end, Rachel took her backpack from the locker room and Quinn did the same. They left by motorcycle and Tina casually remarked to Mercedes and Artie, who couldn't understand the quadrilateral love between Sam, Quinn, Kurt and Rachel.

Meanwhile, Rachel and Quinn arrived at George's house, who was already waiting for them to hit the road. The old button was surprised by the presence of the parliamentarian's daughter, but thought it was a good thing and seemed excited by the little car trip with the two young adults. The bike that once belonged to Santana stayed in the garage. The trio would face three and a half hours of road to capital in the comfort of a nice car.

"Do you think this organization is new?" George smiled at the wheel on the way to the metropolis. "I don't know why they don't tell the story when you are accepted. In my time there was more stringent acceptance tests and we had manuals. Mine is in the safe of my house, inclusive. When I got it, I had my name engraved on the cover."

"Kind of like giving a special greeting and what to wear at the meetings?" Quinn was intrigued. "I don't know about you, but the test applied to me was very efficient. Santana basically told me to study. Like it or not, it opened my mind."

"I speak of more civilized times, my dear. I was sad when they discarded certain traditions in the great internal reform. The manual was one of them, although each circle leader has its own and there are some in the libraries of each headquarters."

"Santana never said about any manual." Quinn complained from the backseat. "Did she say something about you, Rach?"

"I know about the manual." Rachel confessed to her friend's surprise. "I've flipped through it a few times, but I must confess I've never paid much attention. I don't know where Santana's is, maybe she took it with her, but it's true there's at least one in our headquarters."

"But why didn't she ever tell us about it?"

"Because she thought it was too much liturgy and she didn't mind. Santana thought it best to pass the rules over time, in time, than pouring a parallel constitution into our laps as if we were obliged to decorate it or something. "

"I disagree. I'd love to take a look." Quinn mused.

"That's what I'm talking about!" George said with more anger. "Traditions are important, yes, and if they aren't tucked down the jaws like the two of you, they begin to be despised and forgotten. The buttons were founded a hundred years ago by dissidents of the Granatos."

"Granatos?" Quinn's eyes widened. "I thought they were a legend."

"They are more real than you think, girl, and they played a big part in the streak that resulted in today's world. As for us buttons, we had part of the responsibility for articulating the independence of our country, which at the beginning was a democratic republic with socio-liberal orientation. That is why we concentrate and dedicate ourselves more in the construction of this new country than trying to articulate in others. But we were arrogant and didn't realize the approach of the social crisis that was to come because of the economic turmoil. We were old in the majority and the renewal we made was insufficient, slow, based on heredity. That was the breach that the fascists found to play the saviours pose and take over. Then came the coup that played all other representations of illegality, and began series of barbarities under the argument of promoting the moralization of the country. Brooks killed some of our leaders, and his intelligence agents destroyed some of our files. He also destroyed or took to himself some of our establishments. But he made the mistake of thinking that we were a local force that only acted in the shadows of politics, and that gave the remaining Buttons a chance to rearrange and prepare the ground for the counterattack. Hence the great reform that is still in the process of consolidation. See? It is important to know these things so that the new ones won't repeat the mistakes. Everything has to be very well fixed in the mind of each member."

"I feel the buttons work to be more interventionist" Rachel noted.

"We Rachel. When you are a button, you inherit the whole story and become part of a kind of collective living body. Then the pronoun is us!" George snorted.

"Sorry." Rachel blushed and thanked for being in the passenger seat. It would be a lot easier for George to catch the embarrassment in the rearview mirror.

"How many are we more or less?" Quinn was more curious about the story than her friend at the time.

"Our society has about 40 thousand members. The most significant portion is in here, confined just like any other citizen because of the closed borders. The rest is scattered around the world."

"We are so few if we are placed in world dimensions!" Quinn wondered. "We are almost nothing compared to Freemasons!"

"We are enough within the framework we have and for the purposes we seek. There is scope to comfortably reach up to 60,000, but not in this country. We are almost in the limit of possible members in our city. To be more, we need more money, more planning, more physical structures, more everything. Our field of influence has become regionalized, but restructuring slowly corrects some errors." George theorized. "We don't have to make a button country, you know? Our guidelines are democracy, freedom and human rights. Internally, is fraternity. So the motto that one button helps and protects the other. We were trained to act for the betterment of society. Today the focus is to free this country, but even with a single goal there is a multitude of thoughts that can be our Achilles heel. This multiplicity of thoughts and our internal crisis gave rise to the subgroups. And out of these subgroups came leaders such as Lester Goldman, who, while loyal to the cause, use their position and power to act independently."

"Is he one of the few that can get me out of the country?"

"Yes, he is. Goldman can get you out of here because he's a smuggler who owns his own logistics. If he thinks you should leave, it is likely to help. And as you are a button, you will never be forsaken because of this act of insubordination. You can be punished but never abandoned. The buttons just don't forgive acts of betrayal."

"You don't seem to like Goldman that much." Quinn thought something was wrongly told in that story. "So why did you decide to help Rachel talk to a guy you don't approve of?"

"Because I was surprised Pierce gave Rachel a chance to move alone. Signal that she has something more, as Santana always insisted. I'm the guy who deals with profiles from our region and directs certain people to special projects."

"It was you who sent Santana out, didn't you?" Quinn continued to inquire.

"My opinion had some weight. The truth is that Lopez is a differentiated young woman with a profile that fits into one of our special projects."

"So she was leaving anyway?" George nodded. "What if Santana wasn't special enough? If she was just a regular button?"

"She would work like a regular button, get a job, study, and go on like all regular buttons. That's it!"

Rachel looked away from the car. Her stomach was heavy. What George revealed about being responsible for the special profiles was known to her from the day she knocked on his door for help. She thought of the complexity of the situation she was in. It was as if it were in a crossfire, but no ammunition involved, strange as it might seem. As the giant capital gained the landscape, more Rachel became anxious. George drove safely down Highway until he took one of the detours that drove them into the Allen Park area. Just at the beginning of Southfield Road there was a small, discreet hotel opposite a shopping center and a small park. At this point, Rachel was grateful for the company of George, who apparently knew that city very well.

"I booked one room with two beds. But I would like to know if there is one more room available." George spoke at the front desk. "One room for me and the other one for my daughter and my niece." The receptionist frowned at the two teenagers who looked nothing like a cousin, which made George think fast. "My daughter got a scholarship and we're going to visit the program!" Good news always diverted attention.

"What a wonderful thing. You must be proud." The woman commented.

"You have no idea. My niece came with us because you know how these young people are: they don't like to miss the opportunity of a little trip to get out and have fun in the city. They don't know that I know they're here because they want to flirt with the cute boys in the capital."

"I understand what you say." The woman approved while Rachel was puzzled, but decided to go into the theater.

"Dad! Please!" Rachel said, intoning her voice theatrically.

"Truth hurts..."

"First time in town?" The receptionist asked much more friendly than the initial contact.

"Oh yeah." George smiled.

"There are great things to do here if you have time. I recommend Music Hall if you like to see good performances. Ford Field is also very interesting. Incidentally, the city center as a whole is a great place to visit. Oh, I also recommend you buy the newspaper to know about the curfew areas."

"Thanks for the warning!" George smiled.

Rachel took the key from her room. That hotel had nothing different from the others cheap ones. Perhaps the biggest news was the double bed. Rachel tossed the backpack under the bed-which Quinn soon slipped into the locked cabinet. It was night and they were exhausted by the day at school and the extra from the road. So all they did was eat a snack at the mall across the street, have a shower and take a nap.

...

Rachel woke up feeling comfortable. She was snugging against a warm body, which fit hers perfectly. This body belonged to Quinn Fabray. As the girl in question still snored, Rachel took advantage of the moment to think about something other than the hunt for her supposed biological father. She adjusted her body so that she could see the delicate features of her friend's face. That Quinn Fabray was a beautiful one, even a blind in Croatia could see. But there, up close, in a position of fragility allied to the fact they've been living together for two months, Rachel could see beyond. Quinn had acquired new colours and textures that were far more attractive than simple plastic beauty. Rachel thought about it and realized the need to admit to herself that she was very attracted to this new Quinn Fabray. There, close enough to feel Quinn's hot breath, Rachel decided to make a small, bold move by pulling out some curls of the blond hair that fell on Quinn's face. This gave her a clearer view of rosy lips, of the nice nose and of square and strong jaw. Rachel's heart beat faster as she felt more and more tempted to feel those lips.

"You can kiss me if you want," Quinn said with her eyes still closed, which left Rachel mortified. The button tried to pull away, but Quinn's strong arm enlaced Rachel's waist that held her. "You don't have to run." Quinn opened her eyes. "I'm curious, too."

They looked at each other. Rachel felt intimidated by her friend's attitude, while Quinn, the more experienced one, found the other's insecurity cute. That's why Quinn decided to take the initiative and advanced on Rachel, putting her body subtly in a position of dominance and touching Rachel's lips. The sensation was of a pleasant electric shock to both of them. Quinn's lips began to move against Rachel's, who learned fast the rhythm. It was a slow, calm, but exploratory caress.

When she realized that Rachel was enjoying, Quinn decided to be a little more daring and ran the tip of her tongue lightly on Rachel's lips, hoping the girl would understand the message: she wanted to come in. Rachel was reluctant for a moment, but lost in the pleasurable sensations. She opened her mouth a little more, allowing Quinn to get in and explore. Quinn pressed herself a bit more against Rachel as she felt the girl and tried to understand her own feelings. Quinn definitely liked Rachel and she was willing to explore something different in her story: a relationship built slowly by her own, without power play interests involved, without a pimp she once called 'dad' ordering her to open her legs to someone. Quinn just wanted to find her own heart and love despite all the anger and rancour inside her. The idea of being with Rachel, that sweet and, at the same time, strong young woman, was like a cool breeze in hell that she thought was life itself. It was Rachel who broke the kiss. She opened her eyes and stared at the hazel ones.

"Wow!" Rachel was a little dizzy, still lost in sensation.

"Wow!" Quinn repeated, adding a genuine smile. "So?"

"That was... well..."

"Just good?" Quinn frowned. She was offended because that was a great kiss.

"It would have been better if we had already brushed our teeth!"

"Oh!" Quinn turned on the bed, moving away from Rachel, and gestured exaggeratedly as if she were pushing a dagger into her own heart. "That one was to kill!"

Rachel smiled at Quinn's fake drama and slapped the other's shoulder lightly.

"We can try again some other time."

"Another time?"

Quinn, by surprise, grabbed Rachel by the waist and pulled her so that the smaller girl would turn over her body and end her back on the mattress. Quinn unceremoniously stood over Rachel, gently taking the curls of brown hair from her face before stat kissikng again. The kiss this time was more direct and a bit more aggressive, but Rachel accepted it very well. Never in her life anyone caught her that way, and she couldn't help but find it all exciting and new. Quinn's tongue in her mouth brought shivers that made her dizzy with pleasure.

"So?" It was Quinn who broke the kiss this time.

"I'd rather keep the opinion to myself."

"You're frustrating Rachel Berry!" Quinn rolled to the side, but she felt light and with a strange sense of happiness.

"We could explore this for a little while but the truth is..." Rachel pointed at the clock on the wall. "George must be waiting for us for breakfast."

Rachel dressed up to face a day that promised to be stressful. The new couple met George at the same diner they ate the day before. This time it was for breakfast. The trio moved on to Livonia, a neighbourhood in the central part of the capital. Next to a supermarket was a large two-story building. It was beautiful without disregarding the architectural standard of the area. If that was one of the capital cities - Rachel correctly imagined that the city had a few more districts - it seemed four times larger than theirs.

They entered naturally through the reception, and were attended by a well-dressed girl wearing tailleur, hair in well-made coke.

"Can I help you?" She said politely.

"Sure." George smiled. "I need to talk to Richard Brian."

"Do you have an appointment, sir?" The woman's voice tensed.

"I do." He pulled a silver button from his pants pocket and showed it. The woman nodded.

"Are these young women with you, sir?"

"These girls are with me." Rachel felt two pairs of expectant eyes on her and frowned.

"I don't know if mine works here!" She complained softly, embarrassed, as she showed the button she used to give access to the secret headquarters.

"I don't have one of these!" Quinn whispered and faced Rachel. "Why don't I have one of these?"

George and the receptionist giggled.

"If you can follow me..." The receptionist said.

They walked through the offices on the first floor in law firm that looked completely normal.

"Is it your first time here?" The receptionist asked when they reached the second floor where there was a second reception.

"Not at all." George said. "But it's the girls' first visit. The short one is category 2." That in that way meant that Rachel was an active worker and that she reached a certain degree, therefore, she was authorized to get in and to know one of the primary headquarters of the buttons in any city. "But the blonde one is a shallow button yet."

Quinn, like every shallow button, didn't have access to Lima's primary headquarters by her own, but that didn't mean that she couldn't visit it with her leader. In this case, there were three upper hierarchy buttons that could put her inside. Although Rachel's electronic button had been made with fine technology, hers didn't accesses there, hence the need to update, which would take a few minutes.

"Where are you from?"

"Lima!"

"Pierce's city!" The receptionist smiled. "I'm a fan of him!" She turned to another woman and whispered something. The second receptionist nodded and called. Meanwhile the first one explained. "Sir Brian isn't here, and since you want to talk to him, we're happy to get in touch."

"What's your name, young lady?" The second asked.

"Berry, Rachel Berry." And the girl spoke again until she handed the cordless phone to the girl, who was surprised.

"Mr. Brian?" She walked to a more private corner of the front desk.

" _Rachel Berry, I got a note from Pierce to take your order, but I can't go there. I'm full of things to do and what you have to tell me is going to be on the phone._ " A nasal voice spoke from the other end of the line.

"I need to talk to Lester Goldman and I know you can get in touch with him." There was silence on the other end of the line. "Mr. Brian? Are you still there?"

" _I don't know they warned you, girl, but Goldman has an unpredictable schedule._ "

"I only ask five minutes. Pierce wouldn't intercede for me if it was some silly thing." And she heard more silence. "I just need a chance to get closer, that's all I ask. One button helps the other..."

" _Goldman likes to go to this nightclub called The Town Pump Tavern, which is behind the Main Theater. He likes to go there late night to drink and have fun. He has an exclusive and private table. That's all I can help you. Good luck!_ " He hung up the phone.

Rachel handed the phone to the receptionist and noticed eyes on her. She smiled lightly. If she traveled three and a half hours to get her chance blow, then she was successful.

"Do you want to know our basement?" The first receptionist asked, and Rachel nodded still half-heartedly. And the woman continued to explain on the way. "This is a normal law firm. There are three senior's partners who take the most important cases, their auxiliaries and the staff. We have our itinerary and a good pay check. The difference is that all employees are buttons." They went down the stairs from the basement. "It's the recreation and work center."

They passed an alleged filing of case files through a coded door. Rachel and Quinn stared at the grandeur of space. George had already been there, and frankly, he had seen places most impressive. The headquarters of the capital had a bar that stood in front of a mini dance floor, in addition to book shelves - there were three people among the shelves - sofas spread out, a space in the background that looked like a small auditorium that should have about 45 armchairs with multimedia structure installed. Some people were there, a group of nine that seemed to be a full circle.

"This is Rob Thomaz's circle." The secretary pointed at the boy who looked like a college student. "Make yourself comfortable." She went back to her work.

George patted her on the shoulder and headed for the bar. Rachel and Quinn nodded to the group that didn't appear to be much older than their original circle. They all looked like university students.

"Hello..."

"Rachel Berry." She greeted him and waved at everyone else. "And this is Quinn Fabray."

"Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray... Are you visiting?" They nodded. "From where?"

"Lima."

"Oh, Pierce's town. Wait… Lima… Are you related to Russell Fabray?" Rob asked.

"He's my father." Quinn was unsure and afraid to be rejected.

"Oh my god!" A girl said. "This is so awesome and ironic!"

"That's life!" Quinn said indifferently. She knew the Buttons wanted to use her politically. Seeing the reaction of the other button, Quinn could see clearly why.

Slowly, Rachel let go and began to tell one detail or another about their tasks back in the city. She found out why the capital's buttons were called conservatives. Even in a studied and enlightened circle like Thomaz's, ideas such as discrete actions, steady command, control, and a strong hierarchical structure were defended. Rachel realized how much Santana's line of command was informal, familiar, and at the same time efficient about it. Even she herself had a leadership style similar to her predecessor and friend. It was just some different ways of acting. In essence, she and their circle defended the same principles of democracy, guaranteeing the rights of the citizen, and human rights. Rachel realized that this was the true unity of the buttons. They exchanged contacts and said goodbye to their new colleagues.

At the end of the day, the girls and George decided to have lunch in downtown before went back to the little hotel to rest. Rachel called Kurt to see if everything was in order. She was relieved to know that nothing extraordinary had happened. Knowing that everything is all right at home, Rachel lay down on the bed. Her intention was to take a nap and prepare her spirit for the hunt. But Quinn lay down next to her and stared at her.

"Both of us have brushed teeth and our breath are perfect right now."

Rachel was puzzled but somewhat flattered. With a faint smile on her face, she turned to Quinn and they kissed again.


	24. Lester Goldberg

The parking lots near the National Theater couldn't accommodate the number of cars that were being driven to that bohemian area of the capital. If there was something that the totalitarian government didn't care about was the excessive consumption of alcohol and tobacco to sustain the policy of bread and circus. There were periods when certain products were missing from the market shelves: depending on the crop and business, there might be a lack of meat, some processed soy and wheat products. Sometimes cleaning products were lacking, but beer and cigarettes were always available and affordable: even if such products received the hypocritical selling restrictions. Distillates was never lacking on the shelves. The bohemian part of the city worked as a refreshment with its street full of restaurants and small pubs. People drank there what they could until 11 p.m, when pubs and most restaurants had to close. Only exclusive seats, with special licenses, worked beyond midnight. But such places weren't for everyone.

Rachel and Quinn knew their city bohemian site, but they had never seen those dimensions of space and people. There was no curfew that week: people were allowed to live for a while, but the police - always it - were on duty to catch the offenders: okay, get drunk, but behave yourself.

"There's no parking here." George was helping Rachel, but as an observer. He was secretly assessing the girl's posture and her ability to make decisions. "What do we do?"

"Could you park the car somewhere?" Rachel thought quickly. "We get out here and walk into the bar. You can find us in there... that's ok?" She looked hopefully at the upper hierarchy button.

"Of course!"

The girls jumped out of the car and headed for the club in question while George got lucky and got a spot in the next minute, next to the club. Soon he was reunited with the girls, who had barely arrived at the door of the nightclub.

"Remember, I'm only here to point out Goldman, Rachel," George warned. "You should do all the work."

"If I pass on the secret test you're doing to me, will you put me on a project where people trained outside the country?" Rachel was ironic which made George surprised. He didn't expect such a bold comment.

"I never said you weren't special. Only you don't have the same profile as your original leader. You will fail if you try to be like Lopez."

"That's exactly what you want, isn't it? That I fail, have a lesson, and stop bothering?"

"Rachel... I know you're going to fail at some point!" George slapped her on the shoulders and smiled. "But I'm curious to know how far you can go."

"How can you be so cruel?" Quinn frowned.

"I know you would like to help your friend, but that isn't what is going to happen. You're going to stand behind me and just watch, you won't interfere with anything. This is an order. You're here just for moral support and nothing else."

George moved on. The Town Pump Tavern was an elegant bar that lay in the basement of a five star's hotel. But its door was independent, into the street. There was a selector at the door: a person who didn't allow indigents, drunks coming from other places, or people who thought they weren't fit for the environment. George, well dressed in a lined gray suit, passed without problems. He said Quinn was with him and she also passed.

"I guess this isn't your place, young lady." The thin man stopped Rachel. George, followed by Quinn, at a distance, didn't show that he was going to help her.

"But I can get in, sir. I'm 18 years old. Look my I.D." She rummaged through the pocket of her pants and showed it to the man. In the meantime, a well-dressed couple passed by.

"You could be 30 years old, girl, that this place would still not be for you."

"But what is the reason? I'm going to spend my money here like anyone else and I'm not going to mess with it."

"Have you looked around, young lady?"

Rachel stopped to take a good look at people. Not that people were formally dressed for a party or something, but the women were in charming dresses, the men in shirts and trousers at least. She looked at Quinn, who was wearing a nice dress. It was a place of older people and the only teenager present in the ray of vision was herself, Rachel Berry, as well as Quinn. According to George, Rachel was destined to fail at some point. Worse, Rachel didn't even consider wearing more presentable clothes than the worn-out jeans, the blouses, the colourful cardigan: clothes of any ordinary teenage.

Turns out she was still Rachel Berry. She swallowed the embarrassment and spoke more privately to the man.

"I know you're doing the work yourself, but I really need to get in."

"Don't insist on a girl. And don't make me use the force."

"But Mr. Lester Goldman is waiting for me tonight." Rachel gained confidence when she saw the skinny man lose his pose. "He'll be very disappointed when he finds out that I couldn't get it. But to save my skin, I'll tell him the truth, of course: that the selector of this club barred me because I didn't have the supposed right clothes."

"You don't look like one of Mr. Goldman's girls!"

That wasn't the kind of story that the selector used to hear, but everyone at that establishment knew Lester Goldman and knew how to treat the most important customer in the house: they prepared his favourite food, they served his favourite drink even if they are options off the menu. Yes, they knew Lester Goldman, and that also applied to the type of company, including the girls: employees even knew the difference between when a girl was his companion and when she was an "employee". Goldman liked beautiful, clean, curvy, voluminous, well-dressed women between the ages of 20 and 25. Goldman had a thing for redheads, even. Rachel? The selector looked at that tiny, poorly dressed teenage girl who was neither ugly nor beautiful: just a normal girl. How could that figure possibly be a Goldman girl?

"I'm not actually..." Rachel thought to elaborate a little more. But she closed her mouth. She didn't want to talk about bullshit that she could lose. "I just need to deliver a message to him from Parliamentarian Pierce. A message that I should deliver in person. You can search me if you want. I'm not armed, I carry nothing dangerous in my bag. I just have a little bit of money and my I.D."

The selector stared at her and saw nothing but hope and anxiety in the girl's eyes.

"Okay... I'll let you pass. But don't think of making a mess. I'll warn the security guy about you. Any suspicious attitude and you will be out."

"Thanks for understanding." Rachel grinned and walked through the door.

The environment corresponded to the public that frequented it. The music was jazz and a band was preparing to play. There were some couples dancing under a discreet lighting. There were some waiters in white jackets serving some of the tables and some waitress wearing sexy black collant: it was very sexist. The bar smelled like oak. Rachel felt out of place and stunned, looking for some corner to lean against, while George watched her with a drink in his hands. Whiskey? Judging by the glass and the amount of ice, it was.

"I'm impressed!" He smiled at the girl who sat on the bench next to her.

"You go, Rach!" Quinn said with a certain pride in her voice and approached to speak in her ear. "If I could, I'd kiss you right here."

Rachel felt a shiver just thinking about it. But she had a mission to perform: one so important that her departure to the East would depend on it.

"You've been here!" Rachel frowned as she spoke to George. "Why didn't you tell me anything about it?"

"Yes, I have. Sometimes, to tell the truth. But that's how certain old houses survive: preserving their traditions." He raised his finger to the bartender who answered. "Beer for the girls." And she turned back to her companion. "You got in, but you failed at one point. You wasted your free afternoon making out with your friend instead of researching about this place. It's not difficult to find information about traditional pubs, even the most exclusive like this one. I'm sure you could find more fitting suits, and I wouldn't mind paying. See why you're not like Lopez? Your original leader would do a full survey of the place, including research into the physical structure to meet escape areas if necessary." He took a sip. Meanwhile the bartender served the beer to the young ladies.

"How do you know…" Quinn was astonished.

"That you two are into each other? Please! I'm know things!" George smiled. "Anyway, you got in. Congratulations."

Rachel tasted the beer and liked it. It wasn't the first time she drank alcohol, but that beer was different. Maybe it was the atmosphere, the music, the couples dancing in the hall that made her enjoy the taste. Or perhaps because the bar only served good stuff, unlike the crap that is available in the markets. It was attractive. The band's musicians began to take place. It was a quintet with piano, drums, bass, trumpet and sax. The bar was silent when the musicians played two instrumental songs. Meanwhile, George pointed to a table in the corner of the bar. It was the most discreet of them, occupied by two men and a young woman. One of the men was charming, with gray hair and a well-shaven face. He seemed to be 50 years old. Even sitting, Rachel could see that he was a fit man. The second man seems younger. Top 40's maybe. He had smooth black hair, a short, discreet scar close to his eyebrow, the beard was well cut. The woman was young and beautiful, perhaps in her 20s. She was in an elegant black dress whose cut cried high fashion. A waiter served them immediately. Rachel noticed that the older man locked her eyes at George, who nodded slightly and lifted his glass of whiskey.

"Is that Goldman?" Rachel whispered to her companion. The experienced man just nodded. "How do I get to talk to a man like that?" George just stared at her.

Rachel thought of simply approaching. She squeezed Quinn's hand and stepped toward the table. She looked at the trio, but they carried on as if she were invisible. Embarrassed, Rachel walked back to Quinn and George. She looked at the older button that even need to say "you're going to fail." His voice was already imprinted in her mind.

The jazz band closed the third number and the trumpeter invited one of the waitress to go to the microphone. Applause. The waitress introduced herself to the crowd that filled the place, but it wasn't crowded, which was nice. As the woman made an almost perfect rendition of "As Time Goes By." Rachel had an idea. The band played two more instrumental numbers before announcing a fifteen-minute break for the second set. Rachel followed them to the bar kitchen (and her stomach rumbled with the good smell of food).

"Would you accept an impromptu singer?" She surprised them.

"What are you saying, girl?" The trumpeter frowned.

"I need to sing on that stage with you. I can do any numbers and I can guarantee that I'm very good." Rachel heard the band rosy.

"And why would I allow my spot of light to be given to any that appeared from some hole?" He pointed to her clothes. "Do you think I would put myself, and my boys, in a ridiculous? In addition, the girls always sing a song. We don't need you. Now, excuse us, because we need to eat something."

"I understand, but what's the surprise in this? Do you get up on that little stage and always do more of the same?" Rachel asked seriously. "You are the musicians of this house. You get a mix for the season, correct?" She had read many jazz books to understand how the scheme works. "Worse, you're in a country that doesn't give opportunities to do tours in major traditional centers, like the East, where the smaller of the bars would give you more publicity than here in the capital. The great musicians are gone. They have been exiled for more than ten years or to the East, or to Canada or the other coast, where they can make money in Chicago or New York and even tour the rest of the world. But you were left without many options, not least because the government prefers to fund filmmaking rather than help promote music. Then comes a girl who came out of a hole who offers to sing a single number like anyone could do. She seems to be quite sure of herself, of the talent she has. She's tiny, has a large nose and petulant posture. But so what? At least she can break the tedious routine. There is nothing to lose. You have nothing to lose, not even me. So why not? If I'm bad, at least you can say it was a comedy sketch."

"I have an idea," said the pianist not very impressed with the speech, but he sympathized with the young woman. "There's a song I've always wanted to do, but the waitress hates it... anyway, if you know the song and are willing to sing."

"You're not talking about..." commented the bassist.

"I'm in!" Said the drummer.

"Me too." It was the saxophonist's turn. "Let's say it's a new picture: challenge the customers of the house... if it fails, we kick it from there. In fact, it's going to be a sensation to see people kicking the girl out first. I'm going to have fun!"

"Maybe..." Dex scratched his chin. "But only this time!"

"Great!" Rachel clapped her hands. "But what's the song?"

The quintet took the stage and Dex went to the microphone to announce the new interactive game. Rachel watched everything right next to her. She was nervous. She who had performed many times with the choir, who sang at various parties in Lima - was paid in one of them, inclusive. There, her hands were sweating. She looked sideways and saw George still in the bar. He looked curious. Farther back, Goldman was at the table alone with the elegant woman.

"... then I call the challenger of the day..."

"Rachel Berry," she whispered.

"Rachel Lerry!" Some applause from the house and Rachel came in a little pissed that Dex had misnamed the name.

The arrangement began with a brief piano solo with the bass and the drums coming on top. Dex cue her in and Rachel started hesitantly, but with the softness the music demanded.

" _When you were here before/ Couldn't you look in the eye/ You're just like an angel/ your skin makes me cry/ you float like a feather/ in a beautiful world/ I wish I was special/ so fucking special_ "

The house was quiet. Rachel exchanged glances with Dex who smirked. He looked surprised in a positive way.

" _But I'm a creep / i'm a weirdo / what the hell am i doing here? / I don't belong here_ "

Rachel closed her eyes and let herself be carried away by the soft jazzy arrangement to a pop hit.

" _I don't care if it huts / i wanna have control / to wanna a perfect body / i wanna a perfect soul / i want you to notice / when i'm note round / you're so fucking special / i wish i was special / but I'm a creep / I'm a weirdo / what the hell am I doing here? / i do not belong here_ "

Dex and the saxophonist improvised a solo that Rachel called sensational and allowed herself to enjoy the musicians playing a little. She was feeling the tune of the song, feeling the words and vocalized in perfect tune.

" _She's running out again / she's running out / she run, run, run ..._ " Rachel made beautiful use of the extent of her voice.

Then the tone dropped. The wind instruments withdrew and Rachel was alone with only the piano, the drums, and the acoustic bass.

" _Whatever makes you happy / whatever you want / so special / but I'm creep / I'm weirdo / what the hell am I doing here / do not belong here / don't belong me_ "

Rachel was so focused, almost in a trance, that it took her a long time to realize she and the band were being cheered. For a moment she forgot George, Goldman and even Quinn. Dex hugged her to the side. The whole band was impressed and happy with the song. They asked to sing one more. More traditional arrangement. Rachel "Lerry" accepted to the joy of the presents and she got another good performance, this time with the classic "I Can't Give You Anything But Love", that Rachel sang absurdly, in an interpretation almost as good as Ella Fitzgerald's.

When she came down from the stage, she received greetings from the people until she reached George and Quinn. George in particular was impressed, even though he saw Rachel sing at Susan Pierce's birthday party and be aware that the girl was even different in music.

"I have no words!" The older button smiled. "You were perfect on that stage..."

"Because it was unexpected. If it were rehearsed, I doubt it would look so good."

"Miss?" A waitress interrupted. "The gentleman at the table in the corner send him your compliments." And offered the glass of one of the house's popular cocktails.

Rachel glanced toward the gentleman and her heart almost came out of her mouth when she saw that it was exactly Goldman who had sent the drink.

"That's the game, lady." George explained. "Greet and stay in place means you have enjoyed the invitation, but will refuse the company. Even so, accept the drink because you are courteous. If you're interested, get the drink and go to the person to thank them in person."

"Okay!" Rachel started to sweat cold. It's time. But she returned almost immediately to her companion. "Goldman is the youngest, right?"

"Yes, Rachel. Go on."

She took the cocktail and walked to the most reserved table with two men and a woman. She was nervous, her hands sweating. She caught a glimpse of the younger man between the two of them at the table: the one who looked like he was in his 40s and thought that was the same age Goldman would have been since he and Shelby had dated back in college. He wasn't a handsome guy, by the way. Charming yes, very well dressed, smelled of money from afar, but he wasn't a handsome guy like a movie artist. The older one was handsome, though.

"I suppose I should thank you for the drink!" She smiled nervously as she approached the table.

"You have a fabulous voice, Miss... Lerry!" Goldman smiled politely.

"Thanks."

"I assume this is a career you intend to pursue."

"It's true..." Rachel sipped in despair to relax a little. "My mother is a great singer, I was told. I think I inherited this from her, but how can I be sure?"

"You didn't meet your mother?" The woman asked.

"I was a child on my lap when she crossed the border. I was raised by two gay parents since my biological father rejected my mother when he found out she was pregnant."

"What a bastard!" The woman expressed her indignation.

"Indeed. But who knows, one day he'll show up with a good explanation" She faced Goldman with a courage she didn't even know she had.

The man smiled, said something quietly to his companion, then whispered in the woman's ear and kissed her cheek. The two of them got up and left, leaving Rachel alone with Goldman.

"Would you like to sit down for a while, Rachel Lerry?" She nodded and sat facing Goldman. She wanted to keep the eye contact as long as she could, but there was something very intimidating about that man who made her uncomfortable. "So you're the girl who's been yelling for me..." Goldman, on the other hand, was in full control of the situation.

"Yelling."

"Well, Pierce, Richard, Lincon... you're with one of Pierce's boys... the least I can do is ask you directly why all the noise?"

"I want out and I know you're the one who can help me." Rachel went straight. She didn't know if it was the best strategy. She just wanted to put an end to that anxiety. "I'm a singer and actress. I dream of making a career out of this country, but if I stay here I'll be something else and, parallel to that, I'll be working in two or three circles in some kind of joint work. It's a waste of talent. Even for a greater cause, I would die of frustration. I heard you have independence, you have resources and you can get me out of here if you want."

"What if I do, Rachel Lerry, what will I do to make up for the honest and necessary work that is to articulate within a country that we are all striving for to be a full democratic republic again?"

"I could fight for our liberation in outer circles. I know a city like New York has one in the active. My mother gets help from one of the buttons. Plus, if I can hit Broadway, I can be a spokeswoman for our cause."

"As if we didn't already have many mouthpieces... buttons or not." Goldman shook his head. "You have a great voice, I don't doubt your talent. But You're not the only one who wants to live the dream of stardom, as if I had any influence on the shows... You're not the only one who wants to leave the country and you're not the only one who hates the work you do in our organization."

"But how many of these people have come to you and been as direct as I am?" Goldman smiled at the corner of his mouth and blinked.

"Not many... but you certainly were not the first, Rachel Lerry... nor will be the last. The point is that I only help who I think deserves or for whom I have some interest. But, missy, I'm sorry for the candour, you're just one more little button that knows some of the big dogs and thinks you have some bargaining power over it. The truth, Lerry, is that you're ungrateful. Nothing more. So I suggest you put your tail between your legs, go back to your circle and work your ass off."

"I know who you are!" Rachel said louder, desperate. "I know you were the bastard who impregnated my mother and abandoned her almost 19 years ago." She saw the man frowning and maybe that conversation was more dangerous and tense than it already was, yet the adrenaline and the bit of alcohol that ran in her body made her move on. "Shelby Corcoran, don't you remember? Maybe you owe me that favour. "

The man leaned back in his chair, as if he wanted to relax a bit and cool down the situation. He took a sip of his drink and looked at her again. He threw his body forward, and became once more the embodiment of trust.

"Shelby Corcoran... yes, the girl with whom I had a relationship when I was young. I'll tell you a story about Shelby Corcoran, Rachel Berry." He emphasized Berry to show that he was indeed the master of the situation from the beginning. "Shelby was a beautiful, talented girl with big dreams. It was fun to be with her and I kind of loved her, I can't deny. One fine day, she comes to me and says she's pregnant. Well, I could accept that, after all, we had been in a relationship for several months. As her boyfriend, the kid could only be mine, right? The small detail that Shelby didn't know about me is that I can't have kids. I had a still teenage when an infection made me sterile, so I knew that when Shelby came to me saying she was pregnant, I was sure she was riding the dick of another guy. So I left her, yes. Neither she nor even you were my responsibility. Doesn't that sound fair to you?"

Rachel was shocked. She read Santana's report so many times, she knew Shelby's story, she had known all along that Hiram and Leroy weren't her biological parents, she knew of her relatively privileged position among the buttons, she saw Pierce's reaction. Could be due to a lie.

"So... how?" She was bewildered. Goldman caught her hand on the table, as if to comfort her a little.

"You only just got some special attention from the top buttons because Hiram Berry was close to other buttons. That's it, girl. As for your biological father, I advise you to have a straight conversation with your mother. Maybe she confesses that she slept a few times with an older, married guy... a public service doctor, a son of migrants with whom she fucked a few times in the most ordinary way possible in the alley behind a bar." Rachel was astonished. "Yes, my dear, I know more about this story than you."

"You know who he is... my biological father. Who is he?"

"Honestly, I don't give a damn to your little drama, and it is very likely that this guy has no idea you are his daughter, which is ironic. What I can assure you, Berry, is that you're not my daughter. You don't have half of my DNA and I can prove it. If you were, your life would have been very different and, surely, you wouldn't have been raised in this country."

"Thank you for your attention..." She stood up. She couldn't hide her disappointment.

"I haven't totally refused your request yet..." He said louder and Rachel stopped to listen. "Show me that you deserve it."

"What I am supposed to do?"

"For starters, how about you come with me to my hotel room and show me how much you're not my daughter?"

Rachel's blood froze and she wanted to cry. This man's fame suited him. Santana wrote that Goldman was an asshole. A pimp, a criminal with a lot of money and influence and who was one of the main Buttons.

"Thank you again Mr. Goldman."

Rachel turned her back and took a deep breath. She went back to the bar and ran her hand over George's back to draw the man's attention to the exit. He left the money on the counter and accompanied the two young women who walked forward hand in hand.

"Where did you fail?" George asked.

"I didn't." Rachel said earnestly. "I didn't get the answer I dreamed of, but in a way, I was extremely successful." She stared at the top button. "How does this put me in your evaluation of special profiles? Am I special?"

George didn't answer.

At the hotel, Quinn and Rachel were straight to their room. At that moment, Rachel allowed herself to collapse and wept compulsively supported by Quinn. She cried for everything she had suffered in recent months, because, deep down, she felt abandoned by Santana, by the Puckerman's, by The Lopez's. She cried because she saw that her dream had escaped her by the tips of her fingers. She clung to Quinn's arms and cried until fall asleep.


	25. South button

"Rachel!" Reynolds caught Rachel's attention. She was distracted by Alicia Keys' new album. She quickly removed the headphones when she noticed her superior's presence. "You're going to travel with Ayala this weekend. You're going out Friday night and coming back on Sunday. Well, it's Ayala, you know the scheme."

"Oh!" Rachel set the album aside. "You mean I'm going to miss lunch at the Bucklers'?" She mumbled.

She was eager to try the vegetarian lasagne recipe Mrs. Buckler said she would make. She would show up there to deliver the correspondence and talk a little bit with the nice old couple. A pity she would have to call and tell them about her absence. The best part about having to deliver and pick up packages was the Bucklers and the good stories they told about Hiram and their college time. She felt that she was closer to her parents when she heard stories she didn't know about them. Mr. Buckler was Hiram's adviser, and he also taught Leroy and Shelby in college. It was by Mr. Buckler that Rachel knew that Leroy, who was wealthy, was the one who financed Shelby's border crossing and paid the coyote at the time. The inheritance money that Rachel received, incidentally, came almost entirely from Leroy. Even though he didn't register Rachel as his daughter (Hiram did), everything was left in the will.

In addition, Mr. Buckler was the one who gave new meaning to the Buttons for Rachel with his stories about the organization in pre-coup times. He told Rachel how the buttons became a secret aristocratic organization for one aimed at action. George was right in saying what tradition mattered. After the experience in the capital, in the search for Goldman, Rachel read the manual and told everyone in the circle to do the same. Both she and the others became more interested in the organization because they felt the weight of the story. Even Quinn, the most disconnected one, sought to better understand the role she would play in the near future. Before the manual, for Quinn, buttons meant a clandestine version of the witness protection program. Understanding the size of that world, and with the little elucidations that came up here and there, she saw that she was part of something much larger than her father and their respective idiosyncrasies.

It was one of the leadership failure points that Rachel identified in Santana. That were nuances that she could only understand when she was also in the same command position. But Rachel didn't judge Santana by this fault, because her first leader was still the great reference for doing right much more than she made mistakes. Rachel has come to admire Santana even more for doing that complicated job since she was 13 and tumbles are part of the process.

During the month, Rachel tried to work as best as possible in the tasks that fit her. There were many eyes upon her. Rachel was also a perfectionist, and only this personality trait was enough to explain how hard she worked. Besides, the money she could save was good enough to pay her part of the apartment rent. The reward came with Reynolds's determination. Doing more complex tasks meant ascension (and more "cost aid"). Of her colleagues in that circle, only Ayala, Reynolds, and formerly Santana and the late Steve Bryne, did that kind of work because it involved knowledge of much larger structures within the organization.

Throughout the month, the buttons had few bumps with the brown shirts. Finn was no longer so complaining about Rachel, Quinn and their respective alleged boyfriends, when the cheerio Kate Black paid special attention to the jock. One that involved real dating and sex: something Finn had never enjoyed with Quinn and never had a chance with Rachel. Puck lowered his tone at the rehearsal of the choir in favour of the group, but no longer socially spoke to the others, especially to Sam and Rachel. Tina couldn't stand Mike's new personality and broke up with him. Rachel sensed that she might be a good button, but her colleague's lose tongue still worried her.

Artie came close to having Brittany, taking advantage of a moment of loneliness that could have ended up in sex, but Quinn acted quickly and made an accurate interference. No one wanted to control anyone else's sex life, but the rapprochement of the most sensitive and influential person in the group with a regime sympathizer wasn't a good deal for Brittany, let alone the rest of the group. Rachel had her doubts and needed to call an emergency meeting to discuss the matter. As the parliamentarian's daughter liked to be tied to someone, Matt had the idea of getting her attention to shift focus from relationships to other time-demanding activities such as driving lessons and a schedule at Marcus's gym so she herself began to teach dance steps to the kids: so she would feel less lonely and could think of coming back to relate to someone more reliable. And to everyone's surprise, she started having an affair with a bodybuilder who had the "clean plug", in other words: it wasn't button, but he wasn't a fan of the government either.

Kurt's routine was almost unchanged. At school he would be with Quinn in their fake relationship. They hugged each other, kissed each other even more than when the beard was Rachel. Outside of McKinley's environment, Kurt fell into Blaine's arms. Quinn fell into Rachel's arms and lips. Rachel and Quinn were successful in proposing to conduct their courtship with calmness and parsimony: they liked to stay together, to talk and kiss when they were at home. But for Quinn, kissing and touching Rachel in a PG-13 way was getting harder and harder. She wanted to go further, wanted to touch Rachel in the place she didn't yet have access to. She wanted penetration, to taste her girlfriend. But the problem was that she hadn't yet the opportunity to create the ideal atmosphere for the first time: and she wanted Rachel's to be special. Meanwhile, Quinn was trying to contain the growing frustration with a lot of solo flight.

Matt was finally called for a second circle, but it was a different group than Rachel was in. His work is essentially bureaucratic. It was something he liked to do and would still start earning the help to win a scholarship in Gastronomy that his parents couldn't afford to finance in full.

Sam gained his electronic button that guaranteed access to the headquarters. Following Santana's hint, Rachel ordered Seban to hack the computers of McKinley's brown shirts more for the purpose of monitoring them. If they found out anything else, it would be a big win. Puck talked a lot with Mr. Collins, who knew how to be the organizer of the group in that town.

Sam was busy with his music, helping Rachel when she asked, to make beaks to help parents at home, and to perform the small tasks that sometimes came to the circle. Sam had a perfect understanding that his role was still minimal in the face of what the buttons were. He was learning to have patience. He would play his part and when it was time to be more: it would be more.

On that day Rachel received the news of the trip, she come back returned to home. All she wanted was to get her legs up and get some sleep, but then she found Matt and Quinn unusually amusing themselves in the little kitchen. The boy held a bowl and stirred the contents vigorously with a yoke. His hair was dirty with flour, just like Quinn's clothes and part of the floor. There were cans of beer under the counter in the middle of a mess. And they both laughed out loud.

"What's going on here?" Rachel said quietly, suspiciously, and jealously almost overflowing in her tone of voice.

"Microwave beer cake!" Quinn lifted a can and drank some more. Only then she went to her girlfriend and kiss her on the lips. Rachel could see that Quinn was in good spirits and so didn't want to spoil the mood with useless jealousy. Besides, she didn't think Quinn would cheat on her, and even Matt would not look at her. Anyway, Rachel made a point of showing that divine blonde was hers with a long kiss.

"You will be my guinea pigs," the boy said after the kiss was broken and continued to mix the dough.

"Okay..." Rachel thought better of asking and went straight to the room.

She had a shower and dressed in comfortable old clothes to stay at home. In the case a knitted shorts and an old shirt. The cake was in the microwave while Quinn and Matt chatted excitedly as they packed up the mess.

"Matt's a joker!" Quinn nudged her friend. "I didn't know that side of him."

"Humour matters!" Matt winked at Rachel.

Once again, Rachel felt her jealousy boiling. But it wasn't her style to make scandals. She sat down on the couch and checked the television. There was a reprise of a Mexican soap opera in one of the channels: just one she hated but that Quinn loved because of all nonsense. Being a country with no freedom of expression and censored communication channels, there weren't many alternatives in television entertainment: there were few channels, sports matches, soap operas that were the specialty of the third channel, and that particular one was notorious for the bad acting and absurd history. Once upon a time there was a rich guy who was in love with a virginal poor girl but who spent most of the time with the fatal and cunning woman who would destroy the world to stay with him. Rachel rolled her eyes on the sexist and misogynist discourses embedded in the plot, but in fact reflected in society that no matter how much women were "independent", they would never have the same value as a man. This was reflected in the disproportion between men and women in the academic and professional fields.

She zapped to the other channel: It was time for the main news network. The commentator criticized the "vandalism" action of some young people in the capital who poked the square in front of the parliament with messages of protest the night before. The brave conservative argued that the government ought to have a better way of implementing more efficient curfew schemes in metropolitan areas as well, and praised the rigor of security in inner cities. In the following report, he showed an action of a group of young brown shirts promoting a charity event in a poor neighbourhood of the capital. The point is that poor neighbourhoods were multiplying everywhere.

The anchor talked about the economy. The parliamentary government was studying gradually to extend the supply of visas with the countries of the South. In practice, only the richest had a visa to get out, because they were the only ones with a good reason to return: their money. The plan articulated by parliamentarian Pierce was to grant more entry visas in order to reheat the tourism industry. The businessmen in the industry would have a few months to restructure with the help of the government. The exit visas of the general population would be for a second stage of the process. It was a nice way of saying that forced confinement would last a little longer. Rachel already imagined the endless queues to get an exit stamp on the passport at the immigration posts and also the violent bureaucratic process. Getting out was a privilege of the few and had the impression that even with the "reopening" would remain so because she knew that the prices of passport withdrawals, visas and air tickets would be as expensive as they were today. It was hard to see Pierce greeting Prime Minister Brooks. Anyway, Rachel knew it was politics and she was proud to see the hard work of one of the biggest buttons in the country. Re-enabling the entry of ordinary tourists was a very important income alternative. Tourists do not just bring cash: they also bring ideas.

"Snack is served!" Quinn pulled Rachel back to the world with a kiss on the cheek. "Leave it there, baby. It only makes us depressed."

Rachel turned off the television, turned on the radio, and went to take a chance on the snack prepared by her girlfriend and her friend. The cake was still hot, but it really was delicious. Hunger made her swallow anything. They talked nonsense until the "late hour," eight o'clock at night, made Matt go home. Opportunity for Rachel to throw an inquisitive look at her girlfriend.

"It's not that I didn't like the company, but what was Matt doing here alone with you?" Rachel was confused when she got a smile from Quinn.

"I knew you'd ask about it as soon as he walked out that door. Sometimes you're very predictable, Berry!"

"So?" She snapped her fingers impatiently.

"I called Matt. I said that you were stressed and asked if I could order one of the delicious pies he was able to make. He then said he could do it right here and that he wouldn't charge anything for it. Then he showed up, made some funnies, and you arrived." Rachel gave her a look that didn't believe a comma. "Look, believe what you want. Matt's a fun guy when he wants to, but I'm still more interested in find out all the potential that my relationship with a certain girl can set aside." Quinn ran her fingertips across Rachel's body, beginning with the tip of her chin, passing lazily around her neck, bumping into one of her breasts, until she could finally hug her girlfriend and kiss her sensually.

Rachel felt her body chill, a reaction that was increasingly commonplace at Quinn's touch. Seeing that her girlfriend was completely rendered, Quinn took the opportunity to raise Rachel's shirt enough for her hand to come in and her fingers play with her firm abdomen. Quinn loved that Rachel had abs from all the practice and the extra training that Rachel received in the upper circle of buttons. They were immensely enjoying the sensations caused by the touch. Rachel was also encouraged to do the same, and her hands went underneath Quinn's blouse. The more experienced girl took her girlfriend to the couch and removed her T-shirt in the process. So far nothing new, not even when Quinn took off her blouse. Then she slipped between her girlfriend's legs, trying to keep their skins in touch as much as possible.

When Quinn broke the kiss and lifted a little bit, she faced her girlfriend.

"Can I take off my bra?"

Rachel nodded. Quinn smiled and took the piece of clothing off, leaving her breasts free. She took both of her girlfriend's hands and guided them to her breasts, showing for the first time how she liked to be massaged. Rachel, breathing heavily, tried to be a good apprentice in how to satisfy her girlfriend: of all the tasks she had, that was certainly the best.

"Kiss my breasts, please."

Rachel, even if hesitant and even a little clumsy, took one of her breasts to her mouth and there was learning with her girlfriend the art of making love. Quinn was loving teaching Rachel, at the same time wanting to wage a battle against herself to keep things at a slow to moderate pace. She didn't want to scare her girlfriend or make her feel pressured to have sex. She let Rachel explore her body as she pleased. Rachel was trying new ways to satisfy Quinn. She not only kissed her girlfriend's breasts, but also gnawed lightly the nipples. And when she massaged Quinn's breasts, she kissed her girlfriend sensuously on the neck and mouth.

"Am I doing it right?" Rachel asked.

"I'll give you an A." Quinn whispered into her girlfriend's ear. "Can I take your bra off?" Quinn asked, nibbling at her ear. Okay, she knew that was dirty.

Rachel didn't have that much resistance anymore and just lifted her trunk enough for Quinn to remove her bra. Rachel felt insecure for a moment, despite all the excitement. She ended up covering her breasts with her own hands in a reflection of insecurity. Quinn gently pushed her girlfriend's hands away and smiled.

"You are so beautiful. Your body is beautiful. Don't hide it from me."

Quinn gently touched the side of her breasts and bent to kiss her. Meanwhile, in the process, patiently, her hands were exploring the body of her girlfriend, making Rachel feel good and, better still, willing to continue. Quinn pushed the kisses from her mouth to her neck, and from the neck to the shoulders, and from the shoulders to the breasts. Rachel jumped up as her hot mouth began to gently suck at her nipples. She swore she saw stars.

As Quinn appreciated the softness of her girlfriend's breasts and the feel of her nipples stiffened by touch and pleasure, one hand dropped her girlfriend's body to her waist where the elastic of her shorts was. She played with the rubber band, warning that her fingers would like to go lower.

"Do you want to go to the bedroom?" Quinn asked.

It was time for truth, and Rachel knew it. Either she would stop everything right there and then solve the moisture problem between her legs alone in her own room, or she let her girlfriend do it for her for the first time. But was she really ready? Rachel stopped the caresses and Quinn respected her, even though she was still on the top of her girlfriend, waiting for an answer.

"Please go slow and gentle."

Quinn smiled and got up from the couch, pulling Rachel with her. They walked to Quinn's room hand in hand. Quinn smiled genuinely and kissed Rachel again. And so, still kissing her, she gently pushed her girlfriend to the bed. Once Rachel was lying on her back, Quinn took off her girl's shorts and panties at once. It took her own time to appreciate her girlfriend's body. Rachel had a small body, but that was absolutely proportional, perfect. The hairs on Rachel's sex were a little long, a sign that Rachel had not trimmed them for some time. Quinn didn't care. She pulled the last of her clothes off, and gently she slid over her girlfriend's body.

The penetration didn't happen immediately. Quinn decided it was best to wait until Rachel felt comfortable with their own nudity. They played a little bit, kissing and exploring each other bodies, until the moment that Rachel herself decided that was enough.

"Quinn... please... I need you to touch me… there"

Quinn smiled and brought her fingertips down to her girlfriend's sex. Rachel was so wet that Quinn's fingertips slid on the skin, and she loved that she had created such a condition. There, the tips of her fingers slid over the skin surrounding her girlfriend's clit, causing Rachel to take involuntary leaps of pleasure.

When she decided it was enough, Quinn thrust her girlfriend in with two fingers. Rachel couldn't remember much at that moment, such was the pleasure she felt. But one thing was certain, sex with another person, especially someone she learned to love and trust, was much better than all her single moments.

"Are you ok, babe?" Quinn asked as she was fucking her girlfriend with her fingers.

"Yes!" Rachel could hardly vocalize. "So good! Don't stop, please!"

Quinn moved two fingers inside as her thumb rubbed against her girlfriend's clit. She hardly believed she was provoking all that pleasure. Best of all, that sex wasn't a job she had to do under someone's orders. She had no obligation to fake it. While her fingers were giving Rachel great pleasure, it was incredible that she could feel her own pleasure growing. She realized that making love for the first time was a thousand times better than all the sexual intercourse she had had before. And yes, she was definitely gay.

Of course she would love to have planned a romantic night for Rachel's first time, but the absolutely spontaneous way that happened was also wonderful.

Rachel's orgasm made her see stars. Almost literally. It took her a few minutes to get back to planet earth. She smiled, not knowing she was smiling. Until a tear ran down his face.

"Are you ok?" Quinn asked, kissing her girl's cheek after had tasted Rachel's fluids on her fingers (and liked it).

"I'm feeling great. Thank you for being kind and gentle."

"You're welcome."

"How can I make you feel good too? Do you want me to… go down?"

"Rach, don't worry. What works for you has a great chance of working for me too. Just don't do anything that you might feel uncomfortable with. We have time."

"But I do want to touch you."

"Then, touch me."

And Rachel did touch her girlfriend, and made Quinn cum.

...

After an ordinary morning, Rachel packed her backpack, put the holder to the pistol that left the gun hidden inside the jacket. She hated having to travel, especially after the magical night she had with her girlfriend. If she could, she would spend the rest of the day in bed with Quinn, exploring, making love, or she could simply cuddle with her girlfriend. But he could not.

"Do you really have to travel?" Quinn hugged her from behind and kissed Rachel's neck.

"I need to." Rachel turned to kiss Quinn quickly. And it had to be a short caress, or she might lose her clothes. "Let's continue where we stopped when I get back."

"That's good plan, Miss Berry."

"Be alright."

Rachel took her backpack when she heard the horn of Ayala's truck. Picking up the road with the buddy button from the innermost circle was always a unique experience. It was like standing next to a Latin guy with strong traits. Instead of jeans and plaid T-shirts, he wore a Kali-Ma T-shirt, which was the villain who ripped out the hearts of others in the Indiana Jones movie. Instead of country music, the radio played a video game soundtrack or Iron Maiden, strange as it might sound. Ayala, by himself, was a strange fellow. He knew everything about the geek world and was the main clandestine importer of Alan Moore's works.

Rachel remembered the first time she had contact with one of these magazines (economic edition, because Ayala had the luxury ones in a safe). She thought it was pure pornography – it was indeed "Lost Girls". Then she read "Watchmen" and she liked it.

"Where do you get those t-shirts?"

"In China." The answers were always like this: short and direct.

"But how?"

"Importing. Want one?"

"I don't... maybe Sam would like one... I think he'd love it since he's your favourite customer. I think Seban would enjoy it too."

"Sam reads many Punisher's comic books, and speaks in Klingon with another boy who frequents my store."

"Klingon is that Star Trek's creature with wrinkled face?"

"Hlja."

"Is this Klingon?"

"Yes."

"I hate you nerds."

They arrived in Dashtown in a region where they housed sheds and factories. Rachel has been to town a few times and has certainly never been to that part. The final destination was a kind of warehouse for a factory. There were small trucks with a food industry logo over there. They passed the lookout, which opened the wire fence that surrounded the lot, and parked. Inside, Rachel could see that it was really a formal company, but in a discreet corner there were also some people gathered in a job that had nothing to do with commerce.

Ayala greeted the people there. He seemed to be wanted. Then he turned to Rachel and introduced her to some of the buttons of Dashtown, Kaldor and Granado. She realized she was the youngest of the 15-person group. She was also one of the few women. Beyond her there were two very large persons that was bodyguards of the group. Immediately, Rachel became a mascot. They waited for almost an hour until a truck arrived on the patio. It was the one that carried the mail. The immediate job was to unload it and place the mail in a reserved corner. Rachel was surprised that it wasn't just letters and small packages. They also unloaded large and heavy boxes. The work there wasn't just mail as they said.

The service was dawned inside. There was a table of food and water that one of the 15 buttons visited from time to time, a radio that was connected to enough volume just for the people inside to enjoy. Much of it was destined to supply their own headquarters. And Ayala was the one separating the boxes for Lima. Rachel the two other women and two other men worked on the pre-selected envelopes and separated the cities. Rachel didn't just take care of Lima. She had to help in everything. She had difficulty at first, but it didn't take long to her understood the system.

Rachel also liked to know a little of each person's stories. One of the women, for example, Ava Priesley, had been a publisher for the last 12 years. She had a 16 year old son who was killed by the agents because he was making graphite in a public wall after the curfew. The boy liked to skate and wasn't connected to politics. It was just a teenager committing a small act of rebellion inherent in his age. At first she blamed herself for thinking her son died because she was a button. Then she understood the facts, that tragedy was an act of pure and simple ignorance of the agents. She was a higher button that worked with more brain stuff, but she asked to do that kind of service because it was a better therapy. And so it remained for four years. The others were there just because it was a service that should be done and nothing more.

Rachel wondered for a long time what was important about that job. Why Reynolds was so picky about the mail business. Santana's files explained this with absurd seriousness. But only there, with her hand in the dough, she was able to feel the weight of the importance of that job. She could see how all the information that passed in her hands without even realizing it. People who worked in that area had to be the most reliable. Imagine that amount of material falling into the hands of government agents? It would ruin a whole structure, people would be arrested and possibly dead, it would take a long time for an order to be restored.

What happened in Kaldor was very serious. By Santana's narrative, the work was almost finished when the agents invaded the place. There was an exchange of shots. That's when Santana killed someone with her pistol for the first time in her life. In the midst of the confusion, she only thought of getting out of there saving everything she could. The group of letters from Lima was already separate. She shoved the letters into her backpack and crawled out among the treadmills of the grain sacking factory. She crossed with another button in search of an exit. He had a remote control in his hands and was going to blow everything up to protect the secret of the information. Santana's eyes widened and she tried to run between the shots from the shed. On the way, she shot another agent and ran toward the little preserve wood that existed by the corn plantation. It was there that she kept her bike.

When she reached the vehicle, she saw the explosion. All that was going through the air. She pushed the bike to the end of the small strip of forest and escaped, making a real endure through the farms. She bumped into a fallen log, flew over the bike, fell into the brush, and rolled away. Everything was dark. She staggered to her feet with difficulty. The vehicle hadn't suffered any serious damage. Santana reached the road at sunrise and drove back home full of pain and without looking back. In her back was the dirty backpack with what was left of that mailing set. Among them were the letters Shelby had sent to her daughter. Lima's usual companion, Steve, was one of those who died. Of the buttons, only Santana and the control remote guy survived.

Rachel could feel the weight of the story she read on the computer, but she had witnessed the physical and emotional pain of the former leader's survival.

The survivor from Dashtown was there in that team of 15 that she now included. Jordan Hart was a 34-year-old man. Short beard and big hair. He was a silent, observant man. He did the work with one-off concentration and seemed never to be comfortable. Rachel admired him from a distance.

"Aren't we going to stop for a bit?" Rachel was so tired after four hours working nonstop.

"Get some sleep," Ava said.

Rachel nodded and leaned against the uncomfortable sofa that lay there. Being with a pistol close to her body didn't help in finding a comfortable position. Despite the discomfort, she managed to sleep for half an hour. She was woken up by Ayala.

"We're going to headquarters."

"From Lima?"

"From Dashtown. We will sleep there. Get up little girl."

They got into the truck that had been full loaded with the mail and went into downtown. The headquarters of Dashtown occupied an entire seven-storey building, which was a hotel. The top floor was the social buttons center. It was the simplest headquarters Rachel had been, with a small room with few magazines and books. The buttons were set up in the bedrooms and spent the night resting in the rooms, discussing politics, commenting on Pierce's victory in opening the frontiers for tourism to resume. Joyce Kleist, who was at headquarters, commented that her sister from the north now had a chance to visit the family she left behind when she fled almost ten years ago. And that was a reason for much anxiety and joy.

The next day, in the early morning light, Rachel was woken up by Ayala. They quickly drank some coffee and ate a piece of bread before taking the road back to town.

"How did you like your first weekend as a picker?" Ayala asked Rachel, who was still sleepy.

"Yeah… it's nice to know buttons from others cities."

"I heard you also got a letter."

"Yes."

"From your mother?"

"Not this time. This one is for my first circle. It's from Santana."


	26. Santana's letter

Rachel was nervous for dinner with Santana's parents. She had been standing in front of the door for five minutes rehearsing a way to say that she and their daughter are part of a secret society, the same one that put Santana out of the country because of a special project that Rachel still had no idea of that it was. As much as Juan was an oppositionist, and as much as Maribel didn't care about politics, they were going to freak out. Rachel took a deep breath, put the theatrical smile on her face and rang the bell.

"I thought you would never touch this thing." Juan smiled at the (almost) weekly guest as soon as he opened the door and gave her room to get in. He had noticed that Rachel had already arrived, but he preferred to watch the girl through the window. "Something has happened?" He frowned, worried.

"Can I talk with you alone after dinner?"

"That's a deal. Now, get in because Maribel made one of your favourites."

Rachel couldn't do anything about this request: she was starving and she was pragmatic. If she delivered Santana's letter first, she might run the risk of running out of dinner. Life outside the Puckermans' house had taught her a lot, even to take advantage of every free mouth she could. But a joke (truthfully) aside, Rachel had been going to the Lopez house for a long time and knew that people who could have unpredictable reactions. So caution was needed so that all information could be delivered as smoothly as possible. Following the laws of unpredictability, dinner was quiet despite the great menu.

"Now will you talk?" Juan charged as Rachel helped Maribel clear the table.

"What are you talking about, man?" The older woman growled angrily.

"Well..." Rachel set the dishes inside the sink. "Maribel, could you sit down again at the table?" The woman began to get nervous at Rachel's strange way, but she complied. Rachel picked up her backpack and took out the letter. Then she sat in the original place, handing the envelope to the couple.

Juan and Maribel analysed the content. The older woman put her hands to her mouth. She picked up the letter and left the table, then up the stairs. Juan stayed for explanations. Rachel thought better: it was easier to deal just with him.

"Are you trying to make a bad joke on us, girl?" She snapped. "What is that?"

"You saw it. Letter from Santana. The letter is hers! "Rachel tried to keep control of her emotions.

"And why does she send a letter for you and not directly to me?"

"That I can answer if you have the patience to hear a brief story."

"If you'll even give me a good explanation, I'm all ears!" He sat in the armchair and folded his arms for a good reason.

"Remember when you asked me who Santana was?" Juan nodded. "And you've heard of Masons, have you? They are public and secret at the same time... "

"Yes, I know what Freemasons are..." He interrupted. "The whole world knows who they are, and Freemasonry is forbidden in this country. And?"

"Okay." Rachel sighed. "I spoke of the Masons because they are the most famous closed organization. Only a member really knows what it's all about..."

"Rachel, so what? That doesn't answer the letter."

"What I'm trying to say is that just as there are Masons, there are also innumerable other closed organizations. Some of them work in an even more closed system and operate under this government radar. They are organizations that have a lot of money, a very specific agenda and powerful members."

"Is this one of those conspiracy theories?" Juan began to get really angry.

"What I mean is that Santana and I belong to one of these secret societies."

"What?" Juan jumped up from his chair. "What absurd is that? Stop joking and tell me the truth!"

Rachel's eyes widened and her heart raced. But she tried to remain calm: after all, she was a button and needed to behave in the right way in situations like that.

"If you calm down..." Rachel tried to keep her voice steady. "I'll explain."

"To calm down? You come to my house with a letter from my daughter and justify it with a joke!"

"It's not a joke!" Rachel said firmly. "It's not a joke, Mr. Lopez. It's not a joke! Why do you think parliamentarian Pierce's personal lawyer provides assistance to brats like me? How do you think Santana bought that expensive motorcycle? Or the money I gave you to buy it? Think of all the strange things and ragged excuses she gave you. All of this came from somewhere that wasn't the payment to set tables at parties."

Juan threatened to get up and show the girl who was the adult in that house and who was in charge. But in spite of his nervousness, the rational part of him spoke louder. Seeing things from another angle, Santana has always been different. She spent little time at home, never asked for money, she was much more sophisticated and smart than an ordinary teenager, had a job that never explained what it was about, and had the mysterious phone calls that made Juliet think that the sister was a prostitute in attendance. Even annoyed, Juan grunted and let Rachel continue the explanations he longed for.

"Mr. Lopez, know that what I am about to reveal can cost the lives of many people, including mine and your daughter, if you don't keep this information for yourself. Do you understand that part? How serious it is?"

"I will not tell anyone, Rachel. I just want to understand."

"Very well... as I said, we are part of an organization that works under government radar. We aren't the terrorists who attack public buildings, as it appears on television, believe me, but it is a very organized and powerful group that works within the system itself in order to change it from the inside. We want democratization and the end of the totalitarian regime."

"Okay... at least I'm relieved that it's not you guys dropping bombs out there... even though I don't like this use of teenagers..."

"Not just teenagers, Mr. Lopez. It's hard to explain this, but let's say some of us are invited early in adolescence, especially when one identifies someone with certain talents, such as Santana. She got in this organization, I think at the age of 12 or 13, and it was your daughter who summoned me. She was my superior in the cell we belong to."

"Did you follow Santana's orders?"

"Most of the time, yes."

"And why did she really leave?"

"What I can say is that our organization has schemes that identify failures in the government system and work on them. Secure correspondence, like this letter, is one such service. It was through him that Santana was able to send you news. That's why you need to keep it a secret. If you or Maribel start asking questions or talking around, it is likely that the news will stop coming and that there will be consequences."

"Is that a threat, girl?"

"No... it's just the reality. We aren't terrorists and I can say that we are the good guys somehow. But that doesn't mean that there aren't people in there with the job of making sure the secret stays that way. I'm sure you understand the gravity of the situation and its implications."

"Maybe I understand." Juan ran his hand through his hair, got up from the chair and paced around the room. "How did you get yourself into this?" He said nonconformity.

"Life, I think."

"The regular trips Santana made... the money you gave us to buy her bike... all this had to do with this secret society, right?" Rachel confirmed. "And my house was searched because of this secret society?"

"No sir. What I told you about the march was true. Colleagues from our school denounced us. It had nothing to do with this Society."

"Okay, I remember..."

"I'm telling the truth!"

"I believe you." Juan was getting quieter.

Maribel came down the stairs in tears, but with a smile on her face. She showed the contents of the envelope to her husband and kissed his head. Whatever Santana was written did a great relief to the older woman. There was a picture of her in front of the Washington Monument. Rachel glanced at the image and found it looking good. Santana's hair was a shorter length, but the rest? It was old San.

"Thank you, Rachel!" Maribel kissed the girl's head as Juan read the letter. "I don't know how, but thank you for bringing this gift. My San is fine! Imagine? She's in the East studying and working."

"The White House must be upside down!" Rachel smiled and watched Juan as he read the letter. It seemed he was trying to hold back the tears. "I have spoken to Mr. Lopez and I repeat: you can answer it if you wish. The same means that made this letter reach your hands can do the reverse."

"Through you?" Maribel asked.

"So far yes."

"Must it be now?"

"No. Take the time you need, then call my cell phone and I'll come get the letter."

"Thank you, Rachel, thank you very much. My daughter is fine and that's all I care about!"

"I think it's time to go... that is, if Mr. Lopez doesn't want to know anything else."

"No, Rachel!" The doctor wiped his eyes. "I'll walk you to the door."

Juan, feeling more relieved with the letter and the reaction of his wife, accompanied the young woman to the motorcycle that once belonged to Santana.

"Thank you for dinner and I'm sorry for anything."

"Believe me, Rachel, even though our conversation has been... different... now, more than ever, I want you here in this house for our weekly dinners. I want answers and I want to keep an eye on you."

Rachel nodded and smiled, but before putting on her helmet, she frowned. The conversation she'd had with Lester Goldman didn't come out of her head and she needed to ask him something.

"Mr. Lopez, can I ask you a very personal question?" She said with concern.

"You may ask, Rachel. It doesn't mean that I can respond, since it is very personal." Rachel smiled weakly at the doctor: it was fair.

"You said me once that you met my dads. That you spoke to them once or twice, which was very casual."

"Yeah, so what?"

"But you've never talked about my biological mother, Shelby Corcoran. I wonder... did you also get to know her?"

"Shelby Corcoran..." Juan leaned against the gate. "Yes... I remember her. She was a college girl who looked very much like you. I remember her from the time I was a first year intern. Santana wasn't even born yet, nor you. Shelby twisted her wrist, I think, and that's how I met her. Then we met again in the pub near the campus. It wasn't a pub for college students. Me and my friends from the hospital were regulars, and your dads and Shelby liked to go there sometimes. Then, they were gone. That's all our story together. I never heard of them again until the day your dads were in the newspapers. That's when I first heard about you. There was a national debate about a gay couple raising a kid, after your dads went to prison. It was when the law was born that gays can't raise or adopt children, even if they are biological parents."

"I hate to know that my situation was the one that gave birth to this terrible law."

"I know. You said this more than once."

"That's a detail about it, Mr. Lopez. In the official records, Hiram Berry is my father. It was presumed that he is also my biological father since he officially assumed my fatherhood. To me, Hiram Berry and Leroy Collins are my dads not matter what. They gave me everything: unconditional love, education, a roof, food on the table… Hiram gave me his name, but I know I'm not his biological daughter."

"Really? Who is your biological father?"

"That's the thing, I'm not sure."

...

The whole circle was reunited completely the next day. Quinn found it funny to find in her locker Rachel's white gold-rimmed button for an official event. It's funny because they lived on the same roof, they were girlfriends and could talk naturally. In any case, it was the tradition and one of the most charming ones of the buttons.

"Let's go?" Rachel said to the shallow button.

"After you, milady."

As Quinn didn't have the electronic button, she divided the elevator with her girlfriend down to the buttonhole: even someone cynical and sceptical like her was amazed at the access, which was cooler than what she had seen in the capital. She felt like she was inside a spy movie. When the elevator door opened, she was delighted to be in touch with the surroundings: she loved to see the banned books, the banned records, the correspondence that was there for the buttons to search for, and Rachel explained the relationship of that with the pink button. That seat was fascinating for a shallow button. It was a huge world full of new ideas, ideologies, utopias and powers.

Because there were also other people besides that circle, they decided to occupy the meeting room. They settled into the chairs and Rachel at the head of the table finally opened the envelope, took the letter from the original leader, and began to read aloud.

" _My first circle,_

 _I guess it must have been crazy out there when I got the fangs out of the country. Believe me, it wasn't easy either to be forced to leave my house overnight, to leave the country in a jet filled with old men and some young people like me whom I hardly knew. Suddenly, after finding out what a real airport was, the Buttons here put us in a van and drove us straight to a lodging that was in a gigantic city like Washington._

 _At first it was confusing. I spent almost a month living in the same room where I was dumped without knowing exactly what my destiny would be because, as I said, I was taken out of the country ahead of schedule and things weren't totally settled here. I was told one day that I would go to Philadelphia, another that I would go to Boston, and they came to ponder New York, which made me laugh. Imagine me living in the city Berry has always dreamed of? I just know it was the scariest Christmas and New Year of my life. I spent days crying alone before I fell asleep longing for my family and all of you._

 _Finally, it was determined that I should stay in Washington. I was introduced to my "new circle"._

 _The buttons rented for me a small apartment in a neighbourhood called Fairlawn and I walk every day to my new school, which is nearby. It's a whole different world from there. Here I am invisible: I am not a cheerio, I don't sing. I don't want to call attention. I discovered that the school here has a stronger teaching and I had trouble following up. I needed to try harder to follow the classes in the morning and do all my training. It may seem strange, but my leader wants me to have this experience in high school and in college because it takes that taste and this knowledge to make things happen in my country too._

 _Funny things happened at this school. You can't imagine the shock I took when I saw a couple of girls walking through the school holding hands and then this same couple kissing on the schoolyard. I talked about it to a colleague and he didn't care. This colleague said that the girls had been together since last year, that nobody cared anymore. I was dying of envy. Not for the couple, but for the freedom that exists here and that we are private in our country._

 _I once commented that school parties were held at noon when the curfew was activated. The boys were horrified and then laughed at the absurd. They have little interest in knowing what goes on beyond the borders, what we face of. They think that we are a bunch of religious and alienated peasants who live under a totalitarian dictatorial government because we were conniving. Because we didn't have the balls to face the premier. I know it's ignorance for lack of information and I don't blame them._

 _I didn't make many friends at school. Just enough not to be so alone. My leader visits me once a week and takes me to see the cool places in town. He says it's good to enjoy all these experiences now because soon we'll start the real hard work on summer. On the bright side, I like to go to Washington Button headquarters. Believe me, it's the most incredible of all the others I've had the pleasure of visiting. That's because I've been told that the one in Boston is the biggest and most beautiful of all because it was the original, where the buttons started. Then it must be a spectacle, Here you don't need to have coded doors._

 _The headquarters is an entire floor of a very beautiful building. I have a new electronic button to go through the lobby gate ratchet. Then I sit in a comfortable chair and can study in peace. Nearby there is a square where you can stand on the benches and watch the movement without worrying if the guard next to you is thinking on arrest me. At first I carried all the rancidness of our country and feared anyone in official uniform. It took a while to relax and understand that it wasn't the same._

 _You must think I was settled here. Far from it. My desire to fight for freedom only became more voracious. I don't want their culture, their freedom, their assets. I just want to win back what is ours: our culture, our freedom, our assets and our rights. Therefore, my first circle, stand firm because our cause is fair._

 _Rachel, it came to my ears that you were making some noise. I'm proud of you and I say this: don't fade away and be patient. I'm sure your time will come and that you will shine on the stage you deserve to be. Matt, my big brother, I hope you're taking good care of the circle. I know how difficult it is to handle situations beyond your control, but I trust your ability. I know Rachel is there, acting by your side, to help out whatever it takes. If she is not, please punch her in the head for me._

 _As for the others, I expect cooperation and dedication. It is not because I am far away that I have ceased to belong to the circle. I just passed the leadership stick for obvious reasons. No matter what happens, whether or not you join other groups, the original circle is our family and our first fraternity. It means that we will be brothers and sisters forever. That is why you will always be my priority. Never forget that._

 _Love you all,_

 _Santana."_

Rachel cleared her throat and wiped the tears from her face. Some people were doing the same, like Brittany, Kurt and Quinn. The others were less emotional, but their heads were low, as if reflecting on the words Rachel had just read.

"Britt." Rachel drew attention and handed a second letter to the dancer. "San wrote this one just for you."

"Thank you, Rach!" She took the paper and went out of the room to more privacy.

Rachel threw a picture on the table that Santana had sent. She was sitting "casually" in front of the JFK Memorial Center of Performing Arts. Was it a private subliminal message?

Slowly everyone was scamming. Kurt and Blaine ran for a room. They would all sleep there anyway because the curfew had already been triggered. Rachel stood there looking at the photo of Santana in front of the beautiful building.

"Do we even sleep in these rooms?" Quinn was still red-eyed, strangely bewildering the bunk rooms.

"Yes. You can choice one of the bunk rooms or that couch. But I think we and Britt can share a room."

"Can't we just be alone in a room like Kurt and Blaine?"

"This is not a place to have sex, Quinn, at the same time, here is one of the few places they can date without problems, so. If you don't want to share a room, you can face the couch. I've slept in it countless times. It's not bad, but it's not so good to your back either."

"In that case, the bunks don't look that bad." Quinn sat up to test the mattress.

"I'm sure is better than the couch." Rachel observed Quinn. Her girlfriend was uneasy.

"She... Santana looks okay, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, she does."

"Do you think they'll send me to Washington?"

"Would you like to go there?"

"I didn't want to go anywhere without you."

"We'll see each other again soom. I promise."

Quinn and Rachel kissed. They crawled to the other side of the bed and tried to settle. Brittany entered the room crying and threw herself on the bed with Rachel and Quinn.

"She broke up with me!" Brittany said with her head buried in her arms as Quinn hurried to comfort her.

Rachel took the crumpled piece of paper left by her friend. She knew it was an invasion, but what the hell, she was curious. Brittany understood correctly: Santana was breaking up with Brittany in one of the most beautiful love letters she has ever read. In practice, the relationship had broken since the day Santana went into exile and then how much Brittany started dating the academy teacher. The ex-leader didn't know about the ex-girlfriend's actions, of course, then, worried, she thought it was for the best to make that clear as she wrote in the text. Santana explained that each one should live life without strings, but if one day they meet and fate put their hands on their shoulders, then who knows.

Rachel stared at Quinn. In a few months they would also be separated. Quinn would gain political refugee status, she would go to college in the East and become a mouthpiece of democracy, like a modest version of Malala Yousafzai. That was the role for her. It was clear since the beginning. But Rachel's role wasn't, and she feared she would one day receive from Quinn a similar letter to what Santana wrote to Brittany.


	27. What's Going On

_Guest:_ _Thanks so much for continuing to update! I read every chapter of this story and I love it so please continue despite the fact that few people are reading it._

Hello guest. Thank you for your support. I am aware that this fic isn't popular. First, because Glee fics are less frequent, just like the readers. New shows are coming up, thank God. This fic is old. The first version I made of it in Portuguese is from 2011 and it has never been popular because it's thorny issue, which is politics. At that time, I was 19, a college student, and had already sensed movements in Brazil that could cause reprocesses regarding the freedom of the individual and rights. These things are happening right now. People were so disillusioned with the corrupt system that some called for military dictatorial regimes, such as the one that Brazil survived for 25 years. This is surreal, but look, it's real. Fascism grows with the disillusionment of the people. And if we allow it, we will live in the reality that fic addresses.

Thank you once more, I wish you a good reading. This is the penultimate chapter.

…

…

…

Quinn was tired of packing. She had lost count of how many times she needed to do it. True that each time was a distinct reason. This time, the suitcase was small, made only for a few days at a time. She and Rachel planned this travel with Glee Club for the finals of the competition taking place in the nation's capital. Quinn thought it was a miracle that the Glee Club still existed despite the various levels of split that existed among the members. Maybe the passion for the arts uttered small miracles.

"Quinn!" Rachel yelled from her bedroom. "Are you ready?"

"Almost there!" Quinn yelled back from her own room.

She closed the zipper of the small suitcase and met her former rival. Rachel locked the bedroom window and her suitcase was perfectly placed at the floor next to the bed.

"Anxious?" Quinn asked as she hugged Rachel.

"A little bit." Rachel kissed Quinn on the lips and broke contact to pick up the suitcase. Quinn escorted her out of the room and into the small apartment.

"You've done lots of solos before, babe."

"It's not the competition I'm looking forward to... it's more of what it stands for."

"What does it stand for?"

"The end!"

Quinn shook her head and smiled at her girlfriend's drama as they both waited for the group bus toward school. Now that she had found love, Quinn refused to see it as an end, but as a temporary separation. It would be a painful step indeed. The fact is that she understood that Rachel was someone for whom it was worth waiting and that was what she intended to do.

Quinn was grateful that everyone would graduate in two weeks, but she was sure she wouldn't be as nostalgic about school as Rachel. And how could she? Quinn soon thought she had more bad memories than good ones, and most of the good ones were acquired after it became a button. What about the glee club? It was fun when she could just stand in the background singing lalalá while divas Rachel, Mercedes and Santana fought for a solo. Well, at least on Santana's part, the fight was much more to provoke Rachel than vanity.

Rachel, for her part, didn't have the same perception as Quinn. She was reluctant to cut off her girlfriend's hopes, but felt that Quinn's exit was complicated and perhaps the plans they made would not materialize. About the school, for Rachel, the good times were more relevant than the bad one thanks to the Glee Club and her friends. She could smile when she remembered how much fun she had pretending to be Kurt's girlfriend most of the time, or when, when she and Puck were friends, they could join the gang to earn some money at the city's rich parties. She could find fun in Santana's fake verbal attacks or the silly crush she'd nurtured for Finn for so long. It was a romantic and simple time. At the end, she would miss it.

Rachel and Quinn jumped off the bus and walked to school. From a distance they could see the small movement in the parking lot around the school bus.

"It would be faster if I could go on my bike!" Rachel said more to herself than to Quinn.

"You got too used to traveling alone on that thing... and now you're armed. Did I tell you how much I hate this?"

"A few times just this week."

"Great!"

Rachel ignored Quinn when she saw Kurt, Sam, and Brittany. She hugged Brittany first and then Sam, while Quinn slowly walked toward Kurt to kiss him like a good beard would do. In the distance, Finn, Puck, Mike and Artie watched the fake couple's interaction with their friends. They couldn't mix anymore. This was a business trip for them and, well, the last they would have to do with those people. Puck, the man who betrayed the group about the march, just was waiting for the end of classes to finally enlist in the agent training academy. Finn would work in the machine shop and Artie would have to think of something to do, since he wasn't accepted for university. Mike, as expected, would become an engineer.

With everyone reunited, the group got on the bus chartered by the school towards the capital.

...

The New Directions were already positioned in the center of the stage. Artie was the one ahead with Finn, Puck, Sam, Kurt and Mike right behind while the rest of the girls filled the space farther back. The light focused on the wheelchair, who had his head lowered. Silence in the audience. The drummer made the count. Music and vocals started at once.

" _You went to school to learn girl / Things you never knew before_ "

And Finn responded by striving to dance and sing at the same time:

" _Like I before E except after C_ "

Artie resumed his vocals with the audience applauding:

" _And why 2 plus 2 makes 4 / Now, now, now / I'm gonna teach you, teach you, teach you / All about love, all about Love_ "

Finn answered again.

" _Sit yourself down, take a seat / All you gotta do is repeat after me_ "

The coral came in strongly:

" _A B C, It's easy as 1 2 3. As simple as do re mi, A B C, 1 2 3, Baby you and me girl_ "

The group evolved along with the Jackson Five's song until the music transitioned to the first medley. Brittany, Quinn and Mercedes formed a trio in the corner of the stage, as were commonplace in Motown's old scheme. Tina, Rachel, and Lauren were on the other side too, like an old trio of female voices. Quinn, surprisingly, led the vocals of "You Keep Me Hangin On," a song she loved so much. Another very quick transition, without changing time, and Rachel sang "Where Did Your Love Go?", two The Supremes songs.

" _Baby, baby, baby do not leave me / oh, please do not leave me all by myself / i've got this burning, burning yearning feeling inside / oh, deep inside me and it hurts under bad_ "

And there was a last transition. The boys went ahead and paired with the girls. Kurt with Quinn, Puck with Lauren, Artie with Mercedes, Mike with Brittany, Tina with Finn and Sam took Rachel by the waist. He began to sing for her, leading the latter part. Back to Jackson Five.

" _Oh baby give me one more chance / I will not let you please / Oh darlin 'I was blind to let you go / But now I want you back (I want you back) / Ooh ooh baby (I want you back)"_

It was a sensation. The crowd applauded standing up and the choir was the first cheered group. The members left the stage euphoric and didn't even seem to be a fractional team. Even Sam and Puck, for all their differences, greeted each other. Finn gave Rachel and Quinn a warm hug. Brittany kissed Artie's cheek and the ex-lovers Mike and Tina hugged each other. There was only one more team to introduce before the jury would collect and publish the teams qualified for the superfinal, as the finalists' presentation was called for the next day.

"It was a terrific performance from the entire team." Rachel was surprised in the theater lobby by Thomaz, the leader of the circle she and Quinn had met on their last visit to the capital. All the members were there to greet their colleague and the others they didn't even know.

"My God, I can't believe you came." Rachel greeted Thomaz and the others.

Rachel called Quinn, Sam, Kurt and Brittany. A meeting of two circles from different cities was something to be celebrated.

"Are you from the circle here?" Sam asked excitedly to meet new buttons.

"Yeah. This is yours full circle?" One of the girls from the capital asked.

"Unfortunately, no," Kurt replied. "Three of our people stayed in Lima and our original leader is in the exile."

"That's not true." Rachel corrected. "Our Leader, Santana Lopez, is part of a special program. She's in Washington."

"I heard something about. It seems to be a big thing." Another noted with some excitement.

"It was... unexpected to us." Sam flinched.

"Well, we're going to go to a pub near the lake... why don't you come with us? The downtown region has no curfew and it's always cool to talk with another buttons."

"That's not a bad idea." Rachel thought quickly. "We'll stay at least until we know the official results. I have your phone and we'll meet."

"Anyway, this pub called Sweetwater Tavern that sits here in downtown, closest to the lake. The owner is a button, you know? We like to drink there and glimpse how much freedom is so close and so far at the same time."

"Okay..." Rachel greeted Thomaz once more. "We will show up as soon as we finish our obligation here. Thank you for supporting us!"

The buttons led by Rachel met with the other members of the Glee Club, and it seemed that the simple act of talking with others brought back the tension. Questions of who these people were, what they wanted out of the mouths of others as police questioning. As if it weren't allowed to meet other people. Rachel and the others lamented the lack of maturity.

Fifteen minutes later, posters with the finalists were attached at different points in the theater. The New Directions managed to rank second. The celebration was colder than the exit from the stage.

"Let's get out of here!" Kurt pulled Rachel and Quinn. "Seriously, we need to go to that pub!"

"But Mr. Schuester said we all go straight to the hotel..." Sam was discouraged.

"Yes, we go straight to the hotel after the pub! We are all over 18, Britt is 19, and we don't have to give the least satisfaction to him anymore. And I've never talked to other young circles before."

"One minute," Rachel said firmly. "We go to the pub, have a beer and come back. We have competition tomorrow, Kurt. It's our win at stake."

Kurt was going to jump, clapping his hands, but he remembered the public environment and he had to control himself. Instead, he pulled Quinn by the waist and kissed her on the lips, even though Rachel hated to witness such a scene. Mercedes, nearby, played with his friends, approving the "intimacy".

Escaping from others was easy. While the other members crossed the street to get to the hotel where most of the groups were staying. The five sneaky buttons split into two taxis and made a short trip from the elegant National Theater to the foot-dirty Sweetwater. Thomaz's circle was on a corner table. It was a good place because of the window and the good view they had of the inner space. The five buttons from Lima tried to open spaces and get in the way. They joined the other circle and had fun. And the most diverse subjects began to populate the table.

"Are you kidding? The first circles are the most promiscuous, haven't you noticed?" Thomaz chortled. "I've dated Alice," he pointed to the redheaded girl sitting on the lap of a black-haired boy. "And she's with Bill now."

"Not before I knew the power of his punch in my face!" Bill frowned. The mess happened three months ago and it hadn't yet been completely overcome.

"Anyway, Carl and Joyce also date and Alanis is bearding for Paul."

"On our side." Kurt was thrilled with the interaction. It was the first time he'd talked to another young circle, like his, about trivial subjects. "Rachel is my ex-beard. Quinn is my current one. I've kissed Britt once. Rachel and Quinn are dating, as you see." Rachel was sitting on Quinn's lap as she ate fries and drank a beer. "Santana dated Britt and was Blaine's beard, who is my boyfriend. Ah, and Sam is kind of bearding to Rachel. I can't remember if there was anything else..."

"I also kissed Rachel once and I know Matt was in love with Santana." Brittany drank tequila. "The only saint in our circle is Seban, but I can change it quickly."

"And... you see, Britt's had too much tequila!" Rachel frowned.

"You won!" Thomaz held up his hands. "You are the masters in intra-circle relationships!" He finished drinking his beer and left money on the table. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go to college tomorrow morning, unlike those lazy people." He slapped lightly on the head of his friend. "Buttons of Lima, it was an unparalleled pleasure. And Rachel Berry, from leader to leader, you're doing a great job!"

"But I'm not the leader…"

"Of course you are." Thomaz smiled.

"I had a good teacher." Rachel rose from her girlfriend's lap and hugged the other button. "We'll keep in touch."

The chatter continued and as the boys were more driven by alcohol, the more they discussed politics.

"Why so far so close?" Bill shook his head. "Because the unlicensed civilian who comes near the edge of the canal is arrested or killed. If you can get past the agents, you have the coast guard boats that kill anyone who gets into the water. If the guy passes through the middle of the channel, then the water is Canadian and the guy can be killed by their guard who also kills because Canada has double surveillance throughout the border with our country. And if the guy is lucky enough to get out of it alive and live in the big white country of the north, he has to hide right because the deportation process is fast. And whoever is returned is killed by our government. Only the most famous guys get stuck, you know? Because it would get worse if they were executed. So it's so close and so far."

In the meantime, the pub owner came to the table.

"It's not that I don't like having you here, but you're starting to talk too loud." The middle-aged gentleman, who was a button, warned. "There are brown shirts out there in the other corner and they started looking at you here. Time to go home, okay? I already called the taxis."

The group put together some money and put them in the bar owner's hand. They didn't even know how much they owed, or how much of that money didn't even come close to the real account. The owner didn't care. He only wanted his fellow buttons away from there before they could catch the attention of the fascists lovers. Buttons had to take care of buttons. The two circles exchange phones numbers on the way to taxis. Britt was drunk. She had to be supported by Sam. Kurt was tipsy and Quinn, the soberest of the group, did her best to contain her fake boyfriend's joy. Rachel was looking at her girlfriend with a smile on her face. She was just thinking about having a sex night with Quinn. How she was going to get it was another story.

They arrived at the hotel early in the morning and found Schuester, Puck, and Finn in the lobby as if they were agents.

"You irresponsible ones! How could they have gone out for drink?" The professor blushed with reason. Only Quinn was well enough to argue rationally. Then she took the lead before giving Rachel a chance to open her mouth.

"We're over 18, Schuester. Legally, you have no right to charge us anything. And since we don't commit public faults, you also have no right to reprimand us."

"Only the last time you guys left, you went to a protest march and almost ruined everything!" Finn pointed his finger at his ex-girlfriend.

"We just had fun, okay? Who can blame us for wanting to take a second of freedom and steal away from the good feeling of not having to leave the streets at ten o'clock?" Quinn countered. "You may feel very well domesticated with this confinement, but there are people here who still have more self-love. Now if you're not going to arrest us because we're just normal people, can you get out of our way?" She picked up Brittany and told Rachel to follow her. Quinn looked like a lioness defending her pack at that moment. Buttons protected buttons.

Because of the price of the hotel, only three rooms were rented: two for men and one for women. Bothering Tina, Mercedes and Lauren was the annoying part of the night. Nothing that couldn't be overcome or surpassed by girls. Rachel's sexual impulse passed just after the cold water hit her lowered body skin. Quinn put her girl on the bed and share it with her. They slept quickly.

...

"Wake up!"

Rachel opened her eyes slowly. The hangover she was feeling wasn't that bad. Nothing that an aspirin would not solve. Rachel mumbled and covered her face with the blanket.

"Come on, girl." The voice was insistent. "It's almost noon and we have to be ready by four in the afternoon."

Rachel's eyes widened. For good lord, it's almost noon? She removed the cover of her face and saw Mercedes smiling with all the white teeth she had. There were so many.

"That's it, girl! Even Brittany is standing. In fact, she's miserable, thank goodness she's not going to make solos today!"

Immediately Rachel felt guilty for not having controlled the others and herself. In fact, from what she remembered from the night before, Quinn was the only one capable of conducting an amusing conversation without drinking much. Rachel was grateful for her girlfriend intuitively decided to be the sober friend of the round.

"Let's have lunch at a restaurant here in half an hour... ah, Quinn told you to get some aspirin."

"Thanks."

Rachel knew where her girlfriend put the medication. She went to the small bag on the side of the suitcase and took a pill. She got clothes and everything she needed to clean himself. Then, she had a shower just to wake up, but she wouldn't be able to do everything she had planned before in half an hour because of the slowness she was in. She didn't want to give more reasons for the tension in the group to come back in full force. She took the aspirin, got dressed, brushed her teeth, combed her hair.

"Berry!" She heard Quinn knock on the door.

"I'm leaving now!" She murmured to herself. "Gee, give me some time..."

"Rachel... it's just on the news..." The leader's heart leapt and opened the bathroom door in a second.

"Was it something in Lima? Oh my God, did any bomb fall on the East? "

"They said there was a confrontation at the campus this morning, that some students attacked the agents who were trying to make security." Rachel shook her head to find the connection. It was tragic and she had all the sympathy for the students, but what had that to do with them? Recognizing the confusion, Quinn elaborated better. "I still don't know the details and Kurt is trying to get better information from the contacts we exchanged yesterday, but as far as we know, Thomaz is dead."

Boom!

For an hour, Rachel was hanging on the phone. While she was confined to the bedroom, she fed herself only a sandwich and a glass of orange juice that Kurt provided. It would be much simpler if she could go to the law firm. But she couldn't get away from the hotel without rise suspicion, as well as irritate the other group even more. Another reason is that she wouldn't have time to go there, find out the whole story and go back to the competitions, which she had heard so far.

The television version strictly controlled by the Government said that a group of students began to make a break-break inside the building of the Business College. It was where Thomaz was studying. He was thinking about graduating in Business Administration before joining Law School. The agents arrived to dispel the protest, but the students reacted violently. The agents tried to contain the minds of the university students peacefully, but it was impossible because some of the students were picking up rocks, bricks and all the objects they encountered. Six officers and 11 students were injured, three students died at the hospital due to injuries and 21 were arrested. The University issued an official note deeply lamenting the students' deaths and all the tragic events that happened that morning. It stressed, however, that the protest was an isolated act and that it will initiate a campaign so that all the claims and complaints of the students can be made in an organized way. It also said that the University is a democratic and excellent institution, considered one of the top five in the country. And that it won't have its name stained due to the action of a few students who acted irrationally because they didn't agree with the institution's ombudsman system.

The version that Rachel got was that there really was a protest with the presence of almost 300 students in front of the building. That happened because the students were dissatisfied with the director of that college. The agents arrived to end the protest, but not in a peaceful way as was announced. They arrived truculent, distributing scabs. The students reacted and confronted the agents. No one could confirm that there were armed students, but the impression was that they weren't. And what did Thomaz have to do with the story? He went to college to do a test, the protest happened and the students were being withdrawn from the classroom. The crowd wouldn't let any test be performed that day. Without what to do, Thomaz walked down the steps with the others. According to a colleague, he was simply leaving. He wasn't willing to participate in the protests. Between the lines, that was a recommendation of the buttons. Circle leaders should avoid events of this nature that haven't been articulated by the organization. But the mass of students was surprised by the presence of the agents inside the lobby of the building. The confrontation was violent since the meeting. Thomaz died because he was cornered by two agents and was beaten, taking several blows to the head in the process.

When Rachel told the other buttons what she found out, there was a deep silence in the reserved corner where they were. It was unbelievable that the handsome young man who came to greet them the night before, who drank with them, the next day was dead because of stupidity, and still had a reputation as a marginal agitator.

"I have a purple button." Rachel showed the others. "I never thought I'd use it, but... if you don't have it, that's fine, I can send mine on behalf of all of us."

The purple button meant condolences.

"When are you going to do this?" Quinn asked.

"After the finals, I go to the capital's headquarters. Then I will leave my button there in respect to the Thomaz's circle."

Kurt sighed and reached into his wallet for the little purse in which he placed his buttons. There was a purple one, just like all other colours used as codes. He reached out and handed his to Rachel. He didn't know Thomaz, except for the brief meeting with a lot of beer at the pub, but he did so with respect to Rachel, who met the other leader before. Sam was the next to deliver a purple button, followed by Brittany and a hesitant Quinn, who still fumbled with colours and codes.

"Thank you... Well, let's go to work... we have a competition now."

The five buttons were sad and that competition seemed unimportant by that time: a melancholy that was interpreted by others as a hangover. The buttons couldn't be irritated by the insinuations. The others didn't understand and couldn't understand. For others, the truth of the facts was established by the official press, and the police did more than the obligation to arrest (and even kill) some thugs who would make no difference to society. That was what much of the population thought, but not the buttons. They agreed with some currents that the problem isn't one or a few individuals: it was a whole process of struggle and construction among powers in which one stands out due to a number of factors.

Nothing is solved by killing the president, the student or the bandit rover. That is why the buttons tried to implode the system from within the system itself, using its own rules, and from there to make a process of deconstruction of the old for the construction of a new, more social and democratic thought. So the button process was slower and laborious. But what would be the fastest alternative? To take up arms, to assassinate people and to impose an ideology by force and coercion. For the buttons, this wasn't a good alternative.

"You look distressed." Finn approached Rachel.

"I'm very saddened by the news that a university student died today. He's too young."

"If I were you I wouldn't care that much," he said casually. "I bet he was just a troublemaker. Sometimes I think our agents are too good with these outsiders."

"How can you think so, Finn?"

"Out of debt, out of danger. You only have problems with the agents if you really want one. They are there doing their jobs protecting us from those scums."

"Is that really what you think?"

"A nice scum is a dead scum."

Rachel was puzzled. She had not just heard Puck's usual words of hatred. They came out of Finn Hudson's mouth. After all, he was the good-hearted guy Rachel had a crush for so long. Where did that nice guy go? What was happening to people and that world? Were the fruits of years of government rebuke that? A bovine and non-thinking population? Was there still hope for that nation that had become accustomed to simply accepting?

The New Directions were called on stage. At the click of her fingers, Rachel was supposed to start "It's The Same Old Song" and then the choir collectively would make a new arrangement mixing it with "My Girl." The light focused on Rachel in front of the stage. She could not see the audience. The room was dark. All she knew at that moment was that she couldn't sing a silly song, however good it was. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She heard the crack of the team's fingers. Then she began to sing softly.

" _Mother, mother / There's too many of you crying / Brother, brother, brother / There's too much of you dying / You've got to find a way / To bring some lovin' here today – Ya_ "

Part of the New Directions stopped snapping their fingers at the sudden change. From the audience, applause from some people who soon identified the song. Rachel continued to sing acapella.

" _Father, father / We don't need to escalate / You see, war is not the answer / For only love can conquer hate / You know we've got to find a way / To bring some lovin 'here today_ "

The directors of the event began to shake because that wasn't just an unscheduled song. That song couldn't have public placement. Within the Glee Club, only Kurt knew the forbidden song. Sam, Quinn, Brittany and Kurt took three steps forward to help with vocalizations. And all the buttons kept their crack.

" _Picket lines and picket signs / don't punish me with brutality / talk to me, so you can see / oh, what's going on._ "

The directors continued a brutal discussion of the performance and gesticulated furiously as Rachel sang beautifully with the support of the few friends.

" _Mother, mother, everybody thinks we're wrong / oh, but who are we to judge us / simply because our hair is long / oh, lines and picket signs / don't punish me with brutality / talk to me, you can see / oh, what's going on._ "

The lights went on and the audience was divided. Party applauded with enthusiasm. They shouted beautiful words. There were those who clenched their fists and punched the air. It was the nonconformists with the situation who had a moment of public dissatisfaction for everything they lived. The other part of the audience was silent. Or out of fear or being pro-government. The band began to play and the choir made the last performance with the programmed music. Behind the scenes, Professor Schuester was summoned to explain and absent from the side of the stage. In the meantime, people in the cabins also got up. The New Directions made a correct presentation and stepped out of the stage under tense applause.

"What was that?" Artie snapped at Rachel. "Why did you change the song?"

"Because it was accurate, don't you see? A student was killed today, a guy I knew, and people applaud truculence because that's what they deserve, they say." She angrily looked at Finn. "This is wrong!"

"But we'll be disqualified because of you!" Artie shouted.

"Rach." Sam pulled her friend out to protect her. "I think we'd better get out of here." He spoke to her ear. He knew that was the time when a person could be arrested just for singing a song.

"Where are you going?" Finn tried to follow them, until Quinn and Brittany got in the way.

"Leave them alone, okay?" Brittany raged.

"Get out of my way!" Finn pushed the two girls. Kurt responded with another push. He was much smaller and tighter than his brother, but he was a button. The fight was widespread and participants from other clubs had to pull away. Meanwhile, Sam and Rachel ran from there. The young man was terrified and wanted to protect not only the leader, but especially his best friend at any cost. He wanted to leave the theater, but Rachel went to the team's dressing rooms first to get the little bag.

"We have to leave..." Sam said terrified.

"My gun is in here. And my buttons." She didn't need further explanation. The dressing rooms gave way to the back gate. Sam and Rachel passed by them taking advantage of the ignorance of the guards who still didn't know anything. The open side door was in front of a square. They opened it and left in no doubt where to run. They didn't have the same Santana's instincts to escape. It was early evening and there was still good movement in downtown. Running could get attention, especially because of Rachel's pink dress. Sam was wearing a black suit.

"Rachel Berry!" A man shouted from the sidewalk. "I need to talk to you."

The young partners panicked and decided to run towards the small square.

"Where are we going?" Rachel was out of breath and Sam was lost. He just wanted to ensure Rachel's safety.

The man was still behind and the high heel didn't help the escape. Rachel turned her foot as she stepped onto the lawn, the man overtook the pair. Sam attacked him. He punched the guy's face in the hope of giving his friend time to run. But she didn't. And he was immobilized.

"Let him go." Rachel had her hand in her purse, pointing it at the stranger. "Let him go or I'll shoot!"

"Are you going to throw a purse at me?" The man looked sideways and realized they were drawing attention. It wasn't good for anyone.

"There's a pistol inside that bag, now whether you believe it or not, it's your problem!"

"Listen here, young lady, lower it, we have to get out of here urgently, okay? Lester Goldman was in the audience today... Well, he called you a stupid kid when you sang the song and told me to stay on the alert." Rachel lowered her bag and the man released Sam from the standstill. "Great! I see you can still think a little." He looked back and saw that there was a different movement toward the National Theater. The people looked amazed and there were two agents coming in curious. "Take off your shoe!" He ordered. Rachel obeyed and was left alone in her pantyhose. "Come!" Sam took her friend's hand and followed the man. "We need a crowd... unfortunate that there is no game now..." He was referring to the gigantic football stadium nearby.

"You... stop!" An officer shouted.

But the order made the trio tighten his pace. Rachel's adrenaline was high she couldn't even feel the pain in her foot. They ran, but there was no crowd and the dress was a sign.

"I'm going to take care of these guys and you hide among the cars in that parking lot. And see if there's a way to disguise this fucking in this dress! "

The youngest ones obeyed. The man stayed behind and was going to deal with the agents who by that time already reported the anomaly. They didn't look back. Sam squatted along with Rachel between the cars. He took off his suit jacket. Rachel removed the band of hair. But she still had the pink skirt of her dress. It was impossible to pull it off in a hurry.

"Take my jacket, Rach. It will help to disguise a little bit. And if we take a car..." Sam wanted to try something, anything.

"Where are we going?"

"Anywhere far from here." They were walking bent over in search of an old car. It was the kind that Sam could break into and direct.

They chose an old Cadillac, and Sam was already looking for something to break the glass.

"What are you doing?" The man reappeared. He looked hurt. "Are you going to bust an old car just to get us to the corner?" With a dexterity to impress the two teenagers, the man broke into a better car and made no noise.

"I need to learn this trick!" Sam was impressed.

"You're bleeding!" Rachel's eyes widened as she settled into the backseat.

"It was nothing ... just scraped." He started the car, and instead of pulling out the vehicle, he walked quietly to avoid drawing attention. In this way, he managed to divert from the barrier that formed and guided the car out of the downtown.

"Where are we going?" Rachel asked, still low.

"You ruined my plans and now I have to improvise, okay?"

A patrol decided to order a stop, which made Goldman's henchman accelerate the car and begin an evasive direction in order to mislead the patrol. He hit a car, made sharp turns, and the moment he thought he had caught the police, he abruptly stopped the car and abandoned him in the middle of the road. They ran toward another street, where they had access to a few other cars parked along the road. The man pointed to a car of a different colour from the one previously stolen and broke it again with maximum efficiency. They jumped in and were able to follow without major problems outside downtown, which at that time was confused and dangerous.

"Goldman will kill you and me!" The henchman raged.

"You need a hospital." Sam was worried about the bleeding.

"I'll have one soon if you shut up and let me concentrate."

"Are we going to the headquarters?" Rachel asked.

"What are you talking about, girl? We're going to a much safer place."

They entered the outskirts of the city, in an area of the capital in which it was known to preponderate disputes of factions of traffickers and smugglers. It was a place of prostitution, of drug addicts, and miserable people: a garbage of civilization in which even agents of a totalitarian regime were afraid to go: so it was better to look thick, even because many politicians received their fractions to keep that underworld exactly as it was.

The henchman parked the car in an alley that led to the back of a strip bar. They entered the place, through the kitchen of the establishment.

"You stay right here," the man ordered.

Rachel and Sam were too scared to disobey. There were a few glances over them. The people who worked there seemed to be quite normal, with no grotesque tattoos, ornaments on the face or dirty looks: they were simply normal, ordinary cooks making fries, assembling plates, concentrating on the orders coming from the salon.

"Are you hungry?" A black woman approached.

"We're fine," Rachel replied, still hugging her friend.

"It's not what it looks like." The woman returned to the counter she worked on earlier, fixed two plates and showed the portion of chips and a burger. "You better eat. Sit there and eat. My intuition says this will be a long night for both of you."

Not wanting to be undone, Sam and Rachel accepted the food and obeyed the woman. They didn't know that this woman was Margot Pride, a button infiltrated in that community and one of the few people Lester Goldman actually listened to. They ate the fries and the hamburger. Margot joined the teenagers with two soda cans in her hands.

"Can you tell me what happened, little buttons?"

Rachel's eyes widened. In the midst of so much confusion, she never thought she would stop in a stripper's bar. She sighed, closed her eyes, and summarized the previous events. At the end of the story Margot rested her chin on her clasped hands.

"So you're the famous Rachel Berry." Margot smiled. "I'm sure we'll have an interesting conversation when Goldman arrives."

Half an hour passed when the man in question appeared and ordered the two teenagers to accompany him to the office. There, among backstage runners where waitresses in minimal clothes moved to serve, a few naked women walked by, and some in fetish dresses were preparing to perform, as well as the attentive security guards, Rachel and Sam walked fearlessly behind Goldman and Margot to an empty office.

"I don't know if you were too brave or too stupid. Right now I'm inclined to consider the second option." Goldman said with strange calm.

"I'm grateful you watched." Rachel smiled a little bit.

"What motivated you? Simple political protest?"

"Thomaz died today."

"Hmmm," Goldman grunted. "And you think I can help you escape this?"

"If you didn't want to, You wouldn't have sent a man of yours to protect us."

"My man will probably be off the hook because of you!" Rachel and Sam stared at the floor.

"I am really sorry!" Rachel wiped away a tear.

"I was thinking about you a lot lately. You're not as Lopez said you were. That girl overestimates you. You're a bad leader, you're emotional, impulsive and you talk too much." Goldman crossed his legs and stared at the young woman. "I can get you two out of the country. All I have to do is give a signal and cross the submerged bridge to Canada. But there is a moral issue that holds me back and the decision will be yours. Kurt Hummel, Quinn Fabray and Brittany Pierce are in custody for clarification. All your Glee Club may be charged for what you have decided to do unilaterally. Someone will have to pay for your act of insubordination. What is going to be?"

Rachel looked at her feet.


	28. Deal

**(One year and three months later)**

Rachel ran her hand through her hair and sat in the secretary's waiting room. She was already in her starting clothes and with her small bag that fit all her belongings. Nothing but the wallet with documents, some banknotes, Quinn's photo, the necklace with a star pendant. With a nod from her desk, she stood up and walked over to the table.

"Sign here, Berry." The secretary indicated the space with an "x".

Rachel took the pen from a small chain and did as the secretary had ordered. With this, all bureaucracy was formalized. She waved to the secretary who made a dismissive gesture with his hands to send her away.

"Leave this paper at the concierge and it's all over. Good luck and try not to go back."

"Thank you." Rachel nodded and left the room.

Rachel thought she would be thrilled to walk through those corridors. At least she had dreamed it since the first day she stepped on it, but strangely at the end of her quill she realized that she was terribly comfortable with the confinement. Rachel greeted one of the guards (the only one who behaved in the most humane way), walked to the inner porch where she was supposed to leave the paper. Bureaucracy made, and the first heavy gate was opened. Rachel took three steps forward and the prison had been left behind.

Behind the gate was the inner parking lot and the reception desk of the prison to serve visitors and lawyers. Gilmore was the one there waiting for Rachel. He smiled satisfied with the good work he had done in reducing his client's sentence. It was a masterpiece he had given in court by reducing the three-year sentence in a minimum security prison to a year sentence and an expensive bail, paid with Rachel's savings. She was broken and bankrupt, but she was free, right? Rachel lived in that particular prison for eleven months. The sentence also counted the two months that she was in a maximum security prison while awaiting the trial. But the court didn't count the two weeks she was placed under the tutelage of the state for interrogation. About this particular period, Rachel preferred to forget.

"Your friends came to celebrate your freedom," Gilmore said as they walked toward the second heavy gate.

A mixture of anxiety and disappointment filled Rachel's chest. She also didn't expect to feel so divided. Gilmore nodded at the guard at the outer gate, who unlocked the iron and steel structure. The engine worked to open the gate and Rachel could see the street that gave access to the prison. More than that, Sam, Seban, and Matt were waiting for her.

Sam was the first to run to hug her. There was a sense of complicity between them. Even Rachel taking all the blame, Sam was sentenced to forced community service for six months for helping Rachel flee the theater. The public prosecutors still condemned the rest of the choir to one month of community service or bail payment. Everyone paid the bail, except Puck, who was released from trial and sentencing. As expected, he joined the training academy of agents after school and was already acting as a one.

"You look good, Rach." Matt said instead of hugging his friend.

"Thank you," Rachel replied softly.

"Kurt, Blaine and Brittany sent messages," Seban reported. "I'll show you as soon as we get out of this place." The teenager pretended to shiver.

"Santana and Quinn?" Rachel asked no one in particular.

"Quinn hasn't been reporting for a long time, but she's studying at a university in New Jersey," Matt informed her. "We don't know Santana's whereabouts."

Rachel nodded and resigned herself.

"Come on!" Sam grabbed the bag with his friend's belongings and offered his arm. "The Lopez's are waiting for you."

Rachel had nowhere to stay after her release from prison and was apprehensive about it. It was a positive surprise for her to know that she would be staying at the Lopez's. The couple represented the closest she had to a family, but they rarely visited her in prison. They were there only on three occasions during all sorrow. Sam and Matt also visited Rachel in prison whenever was possible, in addition to Gilmore. It was Rachel who, in a way, encouraged the two button's friends to share an apartment, since they both moved to another city.

Matt was accepted into the college and was majoring in business. Sam was the leader of a new circle of buttons designed to produce and distribute pamphlets of all kinds: with banned lyrics, texts that belied official news, texts from banned authors. It was hard work that consumed Sam's entire time, but he was loving the job and was even getting paid for it.

Brittany had moved to Texas to get better at dancing, Kurt left the closet for his family and was in the only acting program that existed in the country, Blaine was in college studying law. Only Seban still lived in the city with his parents. Provisional situation because he himself was assigned to leave the country and integrate the same training program that Santana was in.

As expected, Quinn left the country and was exiled in the East before she could face trial. The beginning was troubled, but soon she managed to catch up with the pace of studies, the new culture, the roommate, and the absence of familiar faces. Quinn also took the opportunity to meet Shelby as part of a personal promise she had made to Rachel. She would never say that to her girlfriend, but from what she saw, she couldn't tell how Rachel could fit into that family. Shelby had a young daughter, a successful, conservative husband. How would they embrace a young woman in exile with a prison passage?

What about Santana? Well, she had another I.D and citizenship.

Focusing on Rachel again, well, she was really feeling lost. It was as if the world had passed, things happened and she was left behind. It was amazing how the chains could be comfortable when you get used to them, and freedom becomes frightening.

Gilmore pointed to the car and Rachel said goodbye to her friends right there. She was grateful for their caring, but their presence could be stifling when all she wanted was to remain quiet in a corner until she decided what to do with her own life. Or even let the buttons decide. Rachel got in the car and the ride to the Lopez's didn't take more than 20 minutes.

Rachel stared at the familiar two-story blue house and a mezzanine. Many of the good memories she had were there. But when she returned to that home, she was afraid she would no longer feel as comfortable as before. She herself could hardly feel comfortable in her own skin.

"Want me to walk you to the door?" Gilmore asked.

"It won't be necessary."

Gilmore took a small packet from his jacket and handed it to Rachel: it was her original buttons, with the edges painted in gold.

"Try to go back to the routine, get a job when you can. That's all you need to do for now."

"No missions then?"

"No missions until you can resume your own life."

Rachel took the bag, thanked the lawyer, and walked slowly to the modest house on the outskirts of town. She hesitated to ring the doorbell, but when she did, a small woman with expressive brown eyes and dark skin answered. Maribel welcomed her with open arms and hugged her.

Rachel wept for the first time since her sentencing.

...

Rachel stared at the movement of the chair on the porch of the house. There was nothing special in that place: it was just a little busy street where boys passed, cars passed, there was some garbage accumulated in the door of the houses because of the bad cleaning service, many of the houses were poor, and there was a guy who lived with luxurious cars in front of the house that Rachel was sure was a dealer. It had been a week since she was released from prison and she still didn't know what to do with her life. Her job, at that moment, was to clean the house and help Maribel with whatever she asked.

Juan opened the front door with a can of beer in his hands and sat down in the chair next to Rachel. They were quietly comfortable until Juan broke it.

"I assume you read your mother's letter."

"You presumed it right." Rachel sighed.

"I thought you'd be so happy you'd respond right away."

"She is my mother... but I don't know her, Mr. Lopez. I don't remember her... not at all, I have nothing of her but the letters. With all due respect, but I feel Maribel is more my mother than Shelby."

"You look a lot like her, as far as I can remember." Juan forced a smile. "I don't know how she is now, but I'm sure you two are almost identical with approximate ages."

"Well, she's married and I have a little half-sister called Beth."

"Nice. She must be well matured and sure of herself now."

"You remember her a lot to whoever says you barely knew her." Rachel fired. There was no malice in her voice: nothing but melancholy and a good deal of irony. "I never told you this, but I met Lester Goldman, the boyfriend who was with Shelby when she became pregnant with me. I went to the capital to look for him and to confront him."

"When was that?"

"Before I was arrested. The organization… Actually Santana gave me this information. She found out that Lester Goldberg was Shelby's boyfriend at the time she was in college with my dads. Santana thought he was the most likely person to be my biological father."

"Oh!" Juan raised his eyebrow, interested in hearing the story of the man who allegedly rejected his girlfriend and unborn child. "And what answers did you get from him?"

"That he can't have kids and that he already knew that at the time." Rachel said without emotion. "He told me that he broke up with Shelby because he knew at that moment that she had slept with another person, probably with my biological father. So he broke up with her and left without looking back. As you know, my dad Hiram was my mother's best friend and so he assumed my paternity."

"I'm so sorry, Rachel."

"Do you remember when I asked if you knew my mother?"

"Yes."

"Goldman gave me a clue. He hinted that he knew my mother had hooked up with, and I quote, an inexpensive doctor who probably wouldn't know of my existence."

"Oh..."

"Mr. Lopez, do you know if my mother got involved with any of your colleagues?"

Juan leaned back in his chair, silent for a moment, pondering what his next words should be.

"Rachel, you know very well that Maribel and I consider you as our own daughter. Not only because of your deep friendship with Santana... it's who you are. We think your friendship with Santana did very well for our daughter. Santana was a loner who didn't get along with her own siblings. But you came and we felt Santana finally connected to someone else. First we loved you for that. Then, with time, I loved you for who you are. You are an amazing and good girl."

"But there's no chance of that happening, right?" Rachel wiped away a tear she barely felt she was about to fall.

"Maribel and I had ups and downs in our marriage..." Juan lowered his voice. " Unfortunately, I can't say I've been a faithful guy all the time. I've never had affairs." The man took a deep breath, clearly embarrassed by such revelations. "Which doesn't mean I've never... slipped."

"What?"

"One night I met Shelby at my regular pub. We were both frustrated. My life wasn't easy with a job that paid poorly, that take long time and energy, and I had two small kids to raise. Santana wasn't born yet. Shelby was young college girl. She was so beautiful, attractive, full of life... she had this boyfriend who didn't treat her well. It was this boyfriend who beat her and hurt her wrist that I treated. We talked, maybe we exchanged a few compliments, and we got some drinks... "

"You are my mother..."

"One time yes. It doesn't mean that I... doesn't mean that Shelby hasn't stayed with other guys. This happened in the bathroom of the pub, next to the toilet, my good Lord! It was just a quickie! We probably didn't use protection, but I never imagined..." Juan ran his hand over his face.

"But once that's enough, that's what they say."

"Right." The doctor finished the beer and threw it deliberately in the middle of the lawn itself in front of the house. "I can arrange a DNA test, on condition that Maribel will never know."

"I understand..."

"I'm not that guy, Rachel. I had my faults, but I'm not the guy who leaves home thinking of cheat on my wife. I love Maribel and my kids. All of them."

"Sir, I'm not saying this to ruin your relationship with Maribel and I don't want anything from you. I just wanted to know that part of my story."

"When Santana brought you here for the first time, I honestly missed it. Missed your story, you know? I've never connected the dots. I've never imagine that… that could have had consequences."

"And I didn't know anything, sir. Nada! I was totally innocent. I had never thought of my biological father until I heard about Santana's theory about Lester Goldberg. And I only looked for him because he is a powerful man who could get me out of this country. After that, I think I was just curious to know about my origins. That's all."

"I will see about that, Rachel. We will see. Now, wipe your tears, Rachel. Learn that a Lopez doesn't cry for anything."

...

"It's cool not to be under the 'can not touch' policy, is it?" Sam was walking alongside Rachel by the town's shopping mall.

The girl looked at her friend and nodded.

By the time Rachel passed in the prison, Sam and Matt visited her sometimes. In the visitor's area, although it looked a lot like the prison cafeteria, the police were always watching: she couldn't touch her visitors. A rule that made Rachel roll her eyes because inside the prison there was almost everything: drugs, small contraband, trade. Things that the prisoners got through loopholes that the corruption of the system provided. Even homosexual relationships were given thick sights inside the walls. You couldn't kiss someone who you really loved during the visiting days, but being raped in prison it's ok? Well, it couldn't, it was a crime, but who had the courage to give in at the risk of being shredded in much worse ways? Rachel herself was almost raped by a cellmate. In fact, she had to use her fists more than once to impose herself, and she thanked God (and Santana) for all the self-defence lessons she had.

"What movie would you like to see?"

Rachel looked at the posters of all the national and international films previously approved for display: she had no interest in any.

"Your call. I have no preference."

"Rachel..." Sam stared at her worriedly.

"That's ok, you can choose!"

"If you're not in the mood to see a movie, then we can just talk... we can sit right there, order an ice cream, I'll keep my big mouth shut and you can talk whatever you want. What do you think of this new plan? It's been a month since you left prison and haven't much to say, Rach. I understand that your year sucked, but you have to get over it! That's what I and everyone else are doing: moving on."

"But it's what I wish everyone would stop doing!" Rachel snarled, calling attention to who was next to them.

Sam, disconcerted, looked around, smiled awkwardly and pulled Rachel away. The movie day had lost its meaning. They walked silently out of the mall where there was a busy avenue and a neighbourhood that separated them from the park. They walked in that direction, and when there was enough quiet to talk again, Sam created the courage and asked the capital question.

"If you don't want us to ask any more questions, why don't you just open up and say what are you feeling? So we won't bother you any more with our stupid questions, and you can take a rancid off your back."

Rachel stared at Sam, her best (male) friend, and looked away.

"I'm not ready."

"Then that's it? Are you just going to close up?"

"It's not simple. Never was!"

"I know you've been a little depressed since you left, but that's precisely why you can't turn people who loves you away. And I love you, damn it!"

"It's precisely because you're my best friend that I want you to understand. I'm not a good company right now and I need room to breathe, to cry, to be alone for the first time since they put cuffs on my wrist. All I want right now is to get home, lie in Santana's old bed, listen to music until I fall asleep. That's it."

"And then Rachel? What are you going to do when you cry while listening to music do not go any further?"

"When I feel it won't do any good anymore, then I'll come to you."

"Promise?"

Rachel nodded. She kissed Sam on his cheek and walked away, promising to do exactly what she had described. She got in the Lopez's house and waved to Maribel, who was working on a new craft piece she made.

"Rachel!" The woman shouted from inside her small workshop.

"Yes?" Rachel picked her up.

"An envelope came from the hospital for you. I think it's the result of those tests you did."

"Thank you, Maribel."

Juan Lopez ordered Rachel to do a battery of exams to check the girl's health condition. Rachel did all routine work exams, plus a thorough gynecological check. What Maribel would never know was that there was the result of another examination among regular clinicians.

Rachel thanked the older woman and went upstairs to the room that once belonged to Santana Lopez. She found the sealed envelope on top of the dresser, checked to see if Maribel was nearby and closed the door. She opened the envelope and searched for the result that most interested her at that moment.

She read the result three, four times to be sure. Then, like a button she was, she pecked the paper. At least it was a therapy to prick the two exam sheets. While chugging in as few pieces as possible, she sang softly.

" _Here's to us_ _._ _Here's to love_ _._ _All the times that we fucked up. Here's to you. Fill the glass…_ "

Juan Lopez arrived from the hospital early in the evening after 24 hours on duty. He hugged and kissed his wife before giving her a kiss on Rachel's forehead. He went to the bathroom, washed his hands and face before returning to dinner table. He poured himself the vegetable soup that his wife had prepared.

"You two will take care of the kitchen cleaning," Maribel warned before went upstairs to her well-deserved bath and then watch her favourite soap-opera.

Rachel stayed at the table with Juan.

"Your exams have arrived?" Juan asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yes sir."

"Do you have any changes?"

"The report says that everything is normal, but my gynecological examination indicated the presence of a bacteria."

"It must be nothing serious. I am not an expert in this area, but there are bacteria that cause discharge and they are common. It's easy to treat it with antibiotics and genital antiseptics. You'll be fine. Don't forget to bring all the results to your consultation with my colleague"

"I know... I won't forget."

"Did you see the other result?"

"Yes sir."

"What did you do to it?"

"I destroyed it. She'll never know. Don't worry."

Juan nodded and continued to take his soup. He wanted to act normal, but inside his heart was beating hard. Although Rachel was the result of a literally five-minute drunken fuck in a stinky pub restroom, he respected that young woman. Rachel was brave and had good character. He couldn't be prouder. Rachel, for her part, couldn't demonstrate, but she was relieved to finally know the truth.

...

"Rachel?" Maribel knocked on the bedroom door that once belonged to Santana. The girl answered promptly.

"Yes?"

"You got one of those letters we can't talk about." She showed the sealed envelope with Rachel Berry's name written and no recipient ID.

Rachel took the envelope and felt a small bulge through the paper: a button.

"Thank you, Maribel."

"You're welcome... oh..." She said before turning around and leaving. "If there's anything about Santana there..."

"I'll tell you." Rachel smiled discreetly. "Don't worry."

"Thank you."

Maribel closed the door and Rachel opened the envelope. Inside there was nothing but a white button and a note. Rachel grabbed her backpack to leave the house.

"Maribel!" She shouted while went downstairs. "I'm leaving, but I should be right back soon."

She put on her grey and pink helmet, her black jacket, climbed Santana's old motorcycle, and set off toward the church that one day she and Matt could visit Santana one last time before the old leader left the country. If the note made a meeting right there, it was because there was someone big wanting to talk to her, and that someone wasn't parliamentarian Pierce. Despite her anxiety, Rachel drove carefully because the last thing she wanted was to be caught by some patrol. She arrived at the church, parked the motorcycle, and entered the building. Since she had no access to the place, she sat down on one of the benches at the front, looked at the Christian altar, and waited.

It took half an hour to the priest go up to her and sit down next to her. Rachel, who was never Christian, smiled and respected the celibate's presence.

"Many come to ask for blessings here in this parish when they are about to make a long journey. Is it your case, my child?"

"My journey is already long, Father."

"Really? At such a young age? How old are you?"

"I'm 20 years old."

"It doesn't look like the age of someone who has already had a long journey."

"Well, Father, HE made the mother of the journeys and lived only 33 years. Not always a long journey means distance or age."

The priest smiled and patted the girl's shoulders.

"Perhaps you need to reflect a little more about journeys in the sacristy. It's a quieter place where you can better prepare for it."

Rachel nodded and smiled. She knew exactly what the sacristy represented. When she arrived there, she met Gilmore, who only waved her into the secret passageway. Gilmore put the electronic button on the device, typed the password, and validated it with his fingerprints. Then the door opened. In the luxurious place where the big buttons gathered, there was none other than Lester Goldman waiting for her.

"Hello, Rachel Berry," the man said calmly.

"Mr. Goldman... what are you doing here?"

"Checking if I should make a deal with you."

"A deal?"

"Rachel... I had the pleasure of meeting with Santana Lopez in Washington. She's an interesting young woman and passionate about the cause, I must say. I was impressed."

"I know her… so?"

"What I have to say, Rachel, what you've been through, the torture you've been subjected to..."

"I was raped there, sir." Rachel said aloud for the first time the violence she suffered on the days she was 'detained for questioning' shortly after being arrested in the capital for singing What's Going On.

"You weren't the first and you won't be the last. Many of us went through that and became stronger. Don't think that you are special because you were tortured and, as you said, raped. That's what they do with political prisoners."

Rachel turned her face and held her own emotions. She would never allow herself to cry in front of a man like Goldberg.

"I didn't say a word!" Rachel said with clenched teeth.

"I know you didn't. Again, that's no news."

"What is your problem? You call me here, in my city, to say in my face that everything I went through wasn't much at all? That not say anything even with a pistol pointed at my head, even when there was a man beating the hell of me and tearing off my clothes was what buttons do? Go to hell Goldman!"

The man was silent for a moment. Goldman, experienced as he was, poured himself a whiskey, lit a cigarette, and crossed his legs as he snuggled into the chair. He looked at Rachel and knew that despite all the anger she felt within herself, she could still feel intimidated by him. This was an advantage he liked to keep.

"Did you find out who your biological father is?" Goldman asked. He kept his voice quiet, controlled, like an expert negotiator. Shouting was for the weak.

"Yes, I did."

"Was he that doctor?"

"He's a doctor, yes."

"Did Santana Lopez know?"

"I don't think so."

"How do you think she'll react when she finds out?"

"She will understand. She knows I didn't ask for any of this."

"Ironic, isn't it? That your slut mother had just fucked up with your best friend's father?"

"Ironic that my slut mother possibly fucked up with my best friend's father, because her boyfriend at the time was assaulting her."

"Bingo."

"You're a monster and you don't even deny it."

"No, I don't. What's the point, Rachel?" Goldman smirked. "Here is thing: Santana did almost a talk in Washington about why I should help you out. The problem is that every time I talk to you, I only think about how much you have done absolutely nothing to deserve this gift. I may be a monster, as you said, but I'm fair with all my fellow buttons. Santana and Seban… they are too special to stay here. Quinn Fabray? She's useful for our purposes. You? Well, you're loved, no doubt. You can sing, but what else?

"Here is the proposal. You can stay and work. You will have a salary and every assistance that a button deserves. Or you can go out and stand on your own as an illegal immigrant. All your button privileges will be removed. If you choose to leave, it will have to be right now because I'm leaving in an hour. You won't even have the right to say goodbye to the people who harboured you... to your biological father. What do you say?"

 **(concludes in the next chapter)**


	29. Free world

_Guest:_ _:nice story. i just wish there was more quinn because i kept missing her. haha. amazing writing skills you have there. sad this is about to end._

 _ **Thank you very much. Indeed, Quinn wasn't the main character, I hope I have done her some justice. Enjoy this last chapter.**_

…

…

…

It wasn't like a giant airport of a large metropolis. It looked more like an airstrip airport where only small airplanes operated: single-engine or twin-engine aircraft. The city wasn't even one of the eastern metropolis. It was a hamlet far from the great centers, a place surrounded by farms and conservation areas.

Rachel was the third to get off Lester Goldberg's private jet. She took a deep breath in the damp New York air. She waited for the city, but found the interior of the state. It was in that village that Goldberg kept an important warehouse for the contraband scheme he kept between the east and the country. When Rachel saw the last step of the staircase to descend from the jet, she hesitated. She had been warned that from the moment she set her foot on the ground of the foreign land, she would be over as a button. After all, being a button was an important part of the complex set of things that defined Rachel.

She took the plunge and others followed. Rachel was alone in a foreign land, and everything she carried was her body clothes, a backpack with documents, her wallet, a book, and her headphones. The money she had in the wallet wasn't even good in that new country. She could see the movement in the hangar, but everything seemed unfocused.

"Rachel!"

Her heart raced at the familiar voice she hadn't heard in years.

"San?" She looked away and saw her best friend approach.

They hugged tightly, a long contact, as if they had no desire to leave each other's arms.

"Berry!" They broke the embrace at the sound of Goldberg's command. He was serious and gestured with his hand.

Rachel nodded and took the backpack. From the inside, she took out the little purse in which she stored her buttons and handed them to Goldberg. He gestured once more and Rachel nodded. She picked up her wallet and pulled out the metal button that held her identity as a button and gave her access to the organization's headquarters. Santana watched her best friend deliver the buttons and her heart went off.

"What kind of deal did you make with her?" Santana said indignantly.

"It was her choice," Goldberg replied quietly.

"You son of a bitch. She's your daughter!"

"No, Lopez. She is not my daughter. Isn't right, Berry?" Santana stared at Rachel who just nodded. Goldberg was telling the truth. "Despite this, Berry is with her family. It's just not mine, is it?"

Santana was confused. Her research had been perfect. She managed to reach her friend's biological father, and in the process discovered more things about the main buttons. Santana discovered on her own merits that Goldberg was running schemes that were far from ethical, and this caught the attention of bigger buttons. Santana, however, made a judgmental mistake about Rachel's paternity. But truth be told, Goldberg manipulated her to continue the deception. Santana didn't know what Goldberg meant about Rachel remaining in the arms of her family, but she knew full well what it meant to turn her buttons. It meant that Rachel was on her own.

Santana herself didn't have much time to stay there. Her presence had already been a courtesy. She would be leaving for Washington in an hour and knew that Rachel would soon be surrounded and invited to get out of there. Then she thought quickly. Santana took her small wallet in the back pocket of her pants and took out all the money she had.

"Santana, you don't have to!" Rachel protested.

"Shut up and listen to me. This money isn't much, but you can buy a bus ticket to New York City and feed yourself for a few days. When you get there, immediately look for the refugee center. This isn't disclosed, but our country is on the list of citizens with shelter. They will register you, they will offer you a bed, some food and they will license to move without being disturbed by the migration agents. Then find your mother. Having a reference always helps. Try to get a job with registration as fast as you can. Anything will work: clean bathrooms, sell hot dogs, do whatever you have to do but dealing or prostitution. Rachel, do you understand?"

"Prostitution? Me?"

"Did you get the point?"

"Yeah... what about Quinn?"

"We'll get there, but do exactly as I asked. Rachel, I can't go with you, I shouldn't be here in the first place, but I promise I'll help you as much as I can."

"I think it's time for your sister to leave, Lopez."

Santana stared at Goldberg, again not understanding what he was actually saying. She took one last object from her wallet, a blue button, and placed it in Rachel's palm.

"You can't do that!" Goldberg said with some disbelief.

"I'm still the right leader in my original circle. You have the authority to lower her or me as a button if you want, but I have the right to final word on the exclusion or not of the members of my circle. Rachel will start again, as you wish, and I know I can't be there with her, but she's still a button!"

Goldberg smiled and waved his employees to escort Rachel out of the hangar. Rachel kissed Santana's cheek before allowing herself to be shooed from the place. Once out of the hangar and seeing the village in the distance, she mentally calculated the walk she would have to make to get there and catch a bus to New York City. Rachel took the first step, the second, the third, and so on. She looked at the blue button in her hand. In a way, she beat Goldberg.

...

Everything in that city was great: so many lights, so many skyscrapers, so many cars, horns, traffic lights, people. It was almost vertiginous. Being there brought on emotions that Rachel had never felt before. That was New York City, the cultural capital of the East, the supreme concept of modernity and development. It was the city of dreams she hoped would one day conquer, like a Roman emperor.

How many nights she had spent at the button headquarters watching movies, leafing through books, listening to the music, jazz, blues, Ella Fitzgerald's and Billie Holiday's divine voices. Oh my gosh! Billie Holiday: The personification of a life that the rulers of her country used as a bad example. "Those drugged and indecent artists from the East", they said. Not for Rachel. Not that she wanted to have Holiday's life, but she wanted to make art, to make her voice an expression of art. Art didn't recognize limiting frameworks, art couldn't be grimace, art had to be free as a cry.

But that was before, when Rachel was the dreamy girl who had learned to deal with the pain of her losses. Rachel now knew what it was like to deal with the pain in her flesh, knew the darkness, the prison, the oppression, the desperate cry. Now, she was in the city of her dreams carrying deep scars. What would she do with it? Could she handle freedom?

"Name?" The clerk at the Migration and Refugee Center was in a bad mood.

"Rachel Barbra Berry."

"Age?"

"20 years."

"Nationality?"

"Confederation of the Midwest, Ohio State."

"Passaport number?"

"I do not have a passport."

"Number of any document you carry?"

"I have my social security number in my country." Rachel showed the photo document and handed it to the clerk to register.

"Do you have criminal records in your home country?"

"Yes."

"What is the reason?"

"I have been charged and convicted of insubordination, contempt and disturbance of public order. I served a year and two months in a minimum security prison."

"What did you do?" The clerk smiled. "Pitched a wall?"

"Basically I sang a forbidden song in a school choir competition and I try to ran out."

The woman looked at Rachel and for a moment thought she wasn't serious. But as Rachel remained serious, she saw that the young woman before her spoke the truth. Even so, the story seemed so ridiculous that she burst out laughing. For her, a citizen of the free world, it sounded ridiculous what was considered a crime in certain dictatorial regimes. She wasn't the only one. Many citizens of the 'free world' used to despise and misjudge. Rachel was serious. It wasn't a joke to her that she suffered from singing a simple song.

"What song was it?"

"What's going on, Marvin Gaye."

"At least it was good song," the girl commented and Rachel nodded. "Do you have any acquaintances or relatives who live in this country?"

"My mother, her name is Shelby Corcoran, and she's a resident of New York City. But I'm not sure of the address. And I have..." Rachel hesitated. She didn't know if she could. Finally, she chose not to risk registering Santana or Quinn as references. "I have a little half-sister, Shelby's daughter. She was born here and her name is Elizabeth."

"Does your mother know you're here?"

"No, ma'am. There is no communication between civilians between our countries at this time. Besides, I didn't plan my escape. It was a matter of opportunity."

"Okay, Rachel Berry. Your registration is done, your case will be reviewed and your license to circulate should be out in a week. In the meantime, I strongly advise against leaving this building. No one will stop you, but you may have problems if you are approached and you may lose your rights as a refugee. You'll be directed to the ladies' dormitory, past the next booth to get clean bedding, a blanket, your hygiene kit, and the locker key to put your things in. The showers are coin operated. It costs 50 cents and lasts five minutes. The laundry center here is also paid for, but I can assure you it's 50% cheaper than other laundromats around here. We offer meal once a day at dinner time. We serve from 7:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. If this is your only meal of the day, don't be late. We have a convenience store here downstairs if you need to buy toiletries or food. You can occupy a bed in this shelter for up to a month counting from today. Any question?"

"What happens if my refugee record doesn't come out in a week?"

"If your registration is not approved, it means that you will be sent to deportation."

"And what happens if my registration is approved but I can't get a job or a place to stay for up to a month?"

"I'm afraid you can be referred to the refugee camp in Florida."

"So I don't have much choice."

"I recommend that you get a job and a place to stay as soon as possible."

"Thank you."

"Good luck."

Rachel took her document and passed the designated counter. She received old yet clean bedding, the hygiene kit, and a thin blanket that couldn't warm anyone up during the winter, not to mention the fabric pincers. The key to the locker corresponded to the number of the bed she was supposed to occupy in the female dormitory. She entered the space on the third floor. The lockers were on the wall of the front door and there was no privacy, no partition between the bunks. Rachel knew it would be hell, but she needed to be strong.

...

Rachel's first three weeks in New York were like a nightmare. She got her refugee register, but she learned that her refugee status didn't help at all. She was alone, she was broken, and she had to beg on the street if she wanted to take a shower or wash her clothes at the end of the day. Even if Santana didn't allow Rachel to be excluded, the little diva should, in theory, be without button's help for a long time. Still, a button named Peter Adams sought Rachel to give her an address and a phone. That was when Rachel had the opportunity to hear Shelby Corcoran's voice for the first time.

The first meeting was marked at a diner near the Brooklyn refugee center. Choice of Shelby herself, who argued that it would be better for them to meet in a neutral place. For Rachel, this meant that her birth mother wanted to probe her and ensure that her presence wouldn't be a disruption to Shelby's family.

Rachel was the first to arrive. She sat down at a table near the entrance and asked for a bottle of water while she waited. She was hungry, she still hadn't gotten a job, and the bottle of water was all she could afford with the coins she got in the street while she was looking for a job.

Shelby walked into the diner almost half an hour later. Rachel was impressed by the very well-dressed woman, even in casual style. Rachel got up and stood there waiting for the birth mother. Shelby smiled and hugged her daughter for the first time since Rachel was just a baby on her lap. Shelby smelled so good. Rachel didn't even though she had showered before the meeting. The tiny soaps offered at the refugee center had no perfume at all.

"It's surreal that you're here in New York!" Shelby said sitting down at the table.

"It's surreal to me, too. As I told you on the phone, it was all too sudden."

A waitress went to the table to deliver the menu to Shelby. She glanced quickly at the options and opted for a coffee and a piece of blueberry pie.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?" Shelby asked.

"I'm not hungry." Rachel lied.

"Are you sure? It's on me!"

Rachel looked at the waitress and asked for the same. Coffee and a slice of blueberry pie wouldn't kill her hunger, but at least it would fool her stomach into dinnertime at the refugee center.

"You gave money to a coyote?" Shelby asked after the requests.

"No... do you know Peter Adams?"

"Yes. He was the one who was looking for my letters to give you."

"He's from the same organization that I'm a part of. And it was this same organization that got me out of the country."

"How?"

"It's complicated, I can't say much about it. But I can say the name of the man who brought me here. Lester Goldberg."

"Oh..." Shelby shook her head. "So you met your biological father."

"Do you really believe that Goldberg got you pregnant?"

"He's a complicated man, Rachel. He was an abusive boyfriend who, in the end, still escaped responsibility when I got pregnant. I don't know what he told you, but I assure you he's not a good person."

"I know that..." Rachel was interrupted briefly when the waitress handed over the orders. The two women thanked her. Rachel ate a piece of the pie and murmured. She hadn't put anything so good in her mouth for many days. It almost made her forget the argument with Shelby.

"Lester... Lester and I met in college. I was a freshman and he was in his third year. We dated for two years. In the first year everything was perfect, but after he graduated, things started to change. At last I got pregnant and he left me. If it weren't for Hiram, I would be lost."

"What about Juan Lopez?"

"Juan Lopez?"

"Yes, the doctor who attended you when you went to the hospital after one of Goldberg's assaults?"

"Yes I recall. Juan Lopez was just one person I met among so many others."

"But did you have sex with these other people?"

Shelby paused for a moment, surprised at the direction of the first face-to-face conversation she had with her own daughter.

"Why would that be any of your business?"

"Because Lester Goldberg is not my biological father. But I think you already knew that, didn't you?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Because he told you that he couldn't have kids. He is sterile."

"He was lying, Rachel."

"No he wasn't. Goldberg himself knew who my biological father was. He gave me the hint, and I did a DNA test."

"Rachel, I..."

"It doesn't matter now. It's no longer relevant."

"Why not?"

"Because Lester Goldberg is a thug who serves a good cause, but he's still a bad guy. And he's a true asshole which cashed in the anger he still feels from you in me. I'm glad his genetics is not on me. It may seem strange, but it was a relief to know that I was the result of a quickie of yours with Juan Lopez in the pub's restroom."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because being welcomed by the Lopez family was the best thing that happened to me after my dads were murdered by the government. And they were wonderful to me without even knowing anything."

"I'm glad." Shelby said awkwardly. Juan Lopez, for her, was just a guy who passed quickly through her life and nothing more. It was strange that one almost unknown was the father of her first daughter. She thought maybe that was why she felt strange about Rachel herself: the person in front of her was an adult she hardly knew. That meeting was far from being what she imagined it would be.

"Me too..." Rachel took a sip of her coffee. It was stronger than she was accustomed to. "Can I ask you a delicate question?"

"Of course."

"Did you regret leaving me?"

"Yes, I did. The first year was particularly the worst. I went through a lot of problems and I often thought about going back. On the other hand, what would it do? I'd be arrested when I came back, I wouldn't have you, and none of this would do any good. I knew I could trust Hiram, that he would make a good father. So I moved on."

"And found a new family..."

"Do you think this is a bad thing I did?"

"Found a new family? No, ma'am."

"My husband wasn't a saviour of my life. By the time we met, I was settled and well. He was just the last proof that my place is here."

"Does he know about me?"

"Yes, He does."

"Beth knows?"

"She knows, but she imagine you're like a high school teen with boyfriend dilemmas, like those Nickelodeon shows. It's too out of the picture."

"Still, may I meet her?"

"Of course. Let's have dinner at my house sometime. For the presentations to be made."

Shelby's speech resonated in Rachel's mind. Have dinner sometime. Not today, or tomorrow, or in a week. It's sometime, maybe, one day or never. It was as if the last of the illusions had been overturned. Shelby paid the sneck, hugged Rachel one more time, but no word about taking her home and taking care of her. Shelby left her with a "let's keep in touch". Rachel concluded that if her biological mother didn't want her even when she was a baby, it wouldn't be an adult full of problems that Shelby would harbour.

Instead of returning to the refugee center, Rachel decided to walk a little bit way through Brooklyn. She needed to see the city and stop thinking about that crap. Then, she saw a sign in the window of a small grocery store: need a helper. Rachel entered the store that she passed by almost every day.

"Hello!" She said after getting the ad from the shop window.

"Hey!" A Korean lady answered. "We're almost closing. Are you looking for something?"

"A job!" Rachel showed the ad.

"I placed this ad in the window not even 10 minutes ago. What do you know about grocery?"

"All I can say is that I'm a fast learner and I need this job."

"Ok. Let's talk."

...

When Quinn received the white button with the note, she barely believed it. It was as if an euphoria had invaded her chest. It had been over a year since she was in New Jersey studying like a madwoman, and from time to time making statements at the behest of the buttons against the government of her country, including against her own father. Not that this was difficult. But most of the time, and although her new circle wasn't bad, she missed the friends she'd learned to love.

"They put so many junks under our doors nowadays!" The roommate observed pointing to the button that Quinn held.

"It's just a joke with an old colleague of mine." Quinn shrugged.

"I know this colleague?" The girl was genuinely curious. Then Quinn just shook her head in negative. "Is it from here on campus?"

"It's someone I haven't seen in a long time."

"Okay, Fabray. I even think it's cool that you get other people to socialize. You're almost a hermit on this campus: you don't have fun, you just study, you're beautiful, you're practically a celebrity, and you don't pick up anybody... are you sure you're not asexual?"

"Fuck you, Mills." Quinn took the backpack, slipped on a sneaker, and left.

Quinn lived just over a year in New Jersey. From the times she went to New York to the buttons' headquarters, she had systematized certain paths. In this case, she took the train to Manhattan and then another one that went from lower Manhattan to the Bronx, where the Office of Buttons worked. Before entering the four-story building, Quinn checked the ticket again to see if it was on schedule.

She advanced to the entrance, greeted the doorman, passed the magnetic card that allowed her to enter the building, and headed toward the basement, where was the recreation area and the piano bar. It was one of the few places in that building where you didn't have to have an electronic button to get access. The upper floors were another story, it needed the metal button and Quinn had one that access some wings.

But the piano bar was fun: it meant you could drink for half the price and that was a huge draw for any button. That wasn't Quinn's interest, even though she thought she deserved a drink. She went downstairs and entered the room already in search of her goal. She didn't find anywhere, so she decided to sit at the bar.

" It's been a while since I've seen you, Fabray," the bartender said.

"I'm busy in New Jersey, Frank."

"Let me see if I remember correctly... screwdriver?"

"You'll never forget that shit, right?"

"It was the best piano performance in the history of this bar! How could I?"

"Okay, Frank, but today I just want a coke, please." She put her coins into the bar.

Quinn picked up a straw and sipped. Frank put the peanut bowl - this one for free - in front of Quinn and went to meet someone else. Quinn picked up the cell phone, checked out the social networks and her email. It had no relevant message. Not even news that interested her. When the glass of Coke was almost empty, she saw the girl entering the bar. She got up and walked toward her, hugging her tightly.

"You did it!" Quinn whispered in her friend's ear she hadn't seen in over a year. "You did it, Lopez!"

"I owed you this visit a long time ago. I have some business to do here, so I took the time to optimize this visit."

"Yes, but you don't call me, you don't send messages. You're the only person on this planet who still writes letters! It's not enough."

"Writing letters is relaxing. It helps me to think."

"But sometimes it's difficult to understand your left-handed writing. Have you ever tried writing with your right hand?"

"It's worse!" Santana smiled and joined Quinn in the bar. "So this is New York headquarters."

"Never been here?"

"It's the first time." Santana accepted a glass of Coke. "I'm glad everything is going well."

"I never thought I'd like here this much."

"Not planning on coming back?"

"Not really!" Quinn smiled. "There's nothing there for me."

"Not even her?"

Quinn stared at her friend and thought for a moment.

"Ok, I would come back only if I were to rescue her."

"You really loved her, right?"

"It was the sincerest relationship I ever had. I think I loved her, San. What I know is that it hurt in my soul when she gave herself up and was arrested. I never saw her after that day."

"Rachel got out of jail."

"Really?" Quinn smiled. "Thank God. How is she?"

"Surviving I guess."

"Have you heard from the others?"

"The others are still working as buttons. Seban is due to disembark in Washington in a few weeks."

"Is that you?"

"I learn things they don't teach in college."

"I guess. It must be a very hard training."

"It's true. On the other hand, I came to see the game in a new light. I also discovered things about myself that I never imagined."

"Intense."

"You bet." Santana sighed and toyed with the sweat of the glass. "I have a mission for you."

"As a button?"

"Yes. I need you to deliver an order to me." Santana took an envelope from the folder she carried and handed it to Quinn.

"When?"

"Today, if you can."

"Today, Santana. Which is? Why don't you go with me?"

"Because I have another appointment and I can't be in two places at the same time."

"So you're back to being my leader..."

"Please! I never stopped being the leader of our circle. So? Can I count on you?"

"Doing what?"

Santana smiled. She put on some more coke and toasted her friend. They talked a little more before Santana said good-bye to whatever engagement she had. Quinn left New York headquarters and frowned when she saw the address she had to go. In Brooklyn: a place she never been before. She took the subway and mumbled the long journey she would have to make. She found a place to sit and took out a book to study.

Quinn was in doubt as to which station should go down and she ended up going wrong. She mumbled that she had to walk much longer than expected. And what intrigued Quinn most was that the envelope had an address, but not a name. She was in doubt if it was deliberate or if Santana simply forgot to put a name on it. She checked the address in the mobile app and walked to a grocery store. The place was closed, but she noticed that there was still movement inside the store.

Quinn knocked on the door.

"We're closed!" She heard a voice shout from inside the store.

"I have an order!"

Quinn heard footsteps toward the door and the gloom of someone unlocking the shop.

"Oh! Fuck!" Quinn murmured when she saw who it was. An emotion struck suddenly, her heart racing and tears came down. "Rachel?"

"Quinn? Are you real?"

They hugged each other and forgot for a moment the world around. They still didn't know, but the envelope contained the lease of a small apartment in Brooklyn already paid with three months of advance. It was basically a room with a bathroom and a kitchen counter, but it would be enough for Rachel no more sleep on a mat between sacks of potatoes and carrots. There was also a note with Santana's hand writing: "I find out the truth, big sis. Be alright. Love, Santana."

But all this was good news for later. At that moment, with Rachel in Quinn's arms, it was as if they both were home again.

...

 **(TEN YEARS LATER)**

The case wasn't one of the most complicated: poor teenager was robbing a convenience store, police officers who were close to the premises attended to the alarm and took the burglar, but with the use of excessive force. Peter Moliente was shot through the chest and lodged in the column. He arrived at the hospital in critical condition, but wanted the fate that HE survived. Although Moliente has a criminal record and was known to be involved with dealers, the city's security videos, in addition to recording a witness, show that the boy didn't react to the arrest as the police alleged. The public prosecutor's office was scolding Moliente, though he was a key witness: the case was the trial of the two police officers accused of involvement with rival mafia groups that allegedly worked to remove mules from the competitor.

The prosecutors team was able to gather enough evidence that the police were corrupt and that the case was more than excessive force. It was just one more step of what the team was doing: dismantling organized crime. The group was formed by the experienced Damon Thair, famous for being relentless and reputed for incorruptible: the great candidate to be the next promoter of the city. Also part of the team was the talented Quinn Fabray, a beautiful woman who, at the age of 30, enjoyed great prestige in the city.

Quinn was a hit from the start. She arrived in the East as a political refugee and had the first few quiet months in the new land. But she was a button and needed to follow an agenda. Her story came to the press with some changed facts: she suddenly became Quinn Fabray, the rebel daughter of a neighbouring Fascist politician who chose exile to submit to ideologies she didn't agree with. The people loved it, and the Eastern government was quick to use it as propaganda.

Quinn was able to graduate with honors in Law. She completed her internship at a large law firm on her own merits and, finally, passed the qualification tests at the public prosecutor's office. Quinn made good money on her own sweat, bought a nice apartment, a car, met lots of interesting and influential people, quickly learned how to do politics, earned a greencard, and filed for citizenship.

About personal life, she had some lovers and wait until Rachel Berry was ready. It was a three years waiting. One day, Rachel went to a little apartment that Quinn rented and said she no longer wanted to be a messy puzzle, that she needed someone who loved her to put all the pieces together again. It was what Quinn patiently did and gathered all the pieces that made up Rachel Berry. The marriage happened two years ago.

"How about stretching the night in the tavern? We need to relax! "Gilbert, a co-worker and one of Quinn's kindest, suggested.

The tavern in question was a bar near the office that was frequented by public prosecutors: it was a relatively decent place to sell drinks at a reasonable price, had good snacks on the menu, the bathrooms used to be clean, and the owner knew how to treat the clientele.

"My liver hasn't bounced back from last week." Quinn complained.

"The point is that the liver needs to have a routine to process the alcohol, otherwise it gets lazy. I read it in a magazine once."

"Do you have any prescription to prevent your wife from killing you?"

"I'm not married, Fabray!"

"It's because no one can handle your boredom." Quinn raised only one eyebrow.

"That's just a way of relativizing a concept, my gorgeous colleague." He tried to seduce her, but only managed irritate Quinn.

"Gil, definitely your liver needs a dose, but what my liver needs, along with the rest of my body, is instant noodles, couch, blanket and my wife."

"This is old man's program, Quinn!"

"This is the perfect show for me tonight."

"I need single friends." The man complained.

"Good evening, Gil."

Quinn took the subway and passed the drive to her apartment without paying much attention to what was going on around her. Unlocking the door, she noticed an envelope on the floor. One brown A4 size. Quinn checked the envelope without a sender, felt there was a small object inside it. She opened the envelope and took out a small button and a note indicating date, time, location, and confidentiality. Quinn's heart pounded.

…

"I've never seen anything like it!" Rachel stared at the images in social networks.

Peter stopped short to see the two-day tragedy that had taken place at a music festival in Eastern Europe when a group of neo-Nazis clashed with another group with no definite identity, but it was speculated that were young people who had shirts of the socialist party of Poland. As the crowd was huge, many people were trampled on the run. There were 43 deaths and hundreds of injuries.

"It was sad!" It wasn't that Peter was indifferent to the pictures, but he was too busy planning Rachel's new tour.

Yes, Rachel Berry didn't become a musical theater actress as she had dreamed since she was a little girl, nor did she become a pop star with bandages on high. Also it wasn't for lack of attempt. In her first year in the city, Rachel got some small jobs, whose money barely paid for rent and personal expenses. But at least she was fighting in a free country.

Rachel's fate began to change when she was invited by Jesse to sing in a bar that opened the stage for amateur singers twice a week. It was her first birthday in the city and she wear a political shirt for the liberation of her own country. As Jesse was a songwriter, the two featured authoritative political music. It was a surprise: the duet drew the attention of the locals and the owner of the bar, who, in a rare attitude, allowed the pair to play another song.

The following month, Rachel and Jesse became regular attraction of the bar. Once a week, they played a set of five songs and earned a change. Quinn went to preside over Rachel on one of those nights: not just her: a friend who was into the producer offered to record a demo. Jesse, Peter and Rachel began to spend the sole of the shoe in search of a record company, in addition to trying to play in other places of the city. Things started to happen. Rachel and Jesse formed a duo who sometimes sang in a duet, sometimes singing solo.

One day Rachel, still moved by the assassination that killed Gilmore and Pierce, gave a speech about the struggle for freedom and democracy in her country on a full house night. It was a success and Rachel became from there the voice of protest for the return of a democratic state and free of its country. Rachel and Jesse's career only grew, even though within the indie circuit they were traveling through, but it was a job that earned them good money: enough to guarantee independence. When that happened, it was the moment Rachel looked for Quinn.

"Since when did you become so insensitive?" Rachel complained about the lack of dialogue.

"Do you want to go on tour or not?"

"Will a conversation ruin your planning? Since when?"

"I'm just trying to focus, okay?" Peter focus on the computer screen.

"Did you fuck with Colin?"

"By chance, it's none of your business!"

"Of course you fucked Colin." Rachel rolled her eyes. "You should get married soon."

"Is that so?" Peter took off his glasses and faced his friend. "Just because you are married didn't mean that this life is for everyone."

"You don't know what you're missing."

"Of course..." Peter flinched.

That's when the bell rang from the office rang. Rachel answered and recognized the button that used to do the mail service. It was strange, since she hadn't been requested for some time. She thought it might have been a call from circles in town and nearby, but the envelope wasn't standardized.

"What is it?" Adam asked.

"A calling" Rachel took the button and the note out of the envelope.

"From who?"

"A person I haven't seen in a long time."

...

During all the years that Quinn spent in New York (including college times in New Jersey), she became a habitué of New York headquarters, largely because of the work she did as a button. But it was rare that she entered the ward of private meetings. Usually the place she went was the legal wing or the piano bar, where Rachel sometimes also liked to take a straw with the circle of nerds she was pretending to rule: the truth is that the purpose of Rachel's circle was based on discourse by means of art.

The private meeting wing was a chic and comfortable space, used by members of the upper circles. Quinn, however active, still didn't have the proper entry code for such a ward. She showed her metal button to the secretary on the most private floor of the headquarters, who accompanied her.

Quinn's heart soared with anxiety as the secretary opened the door and she looked into the comfortable living room. She smiled to see who was on the sofa watching something on the television. Santana was prettier than ever with her long, silky black hair, lush physique, dressed elegantly and feminine.

"Hi Quinn!" Santana smiled and got up to hug her friend tightly.

"Santana!" Quinn returned the gesture. "My God, San! It's been five years since we last met! Where have you been?"

"I'll explain everything as soon as your wife arrives."

"Did you invite Rachel? So why the note said it was confidential? "

"Because it is."

Five minutes later, the door unlocked again and Rachel entered the place. Like Quinn, she smiled genuinely and gigantically at Santana, opening her arms to embrace her sister.

"San!" Rachel cried out. "Oh my God, Santana! It's been forever since I've seen you!"

"A year and two months, exactly." Santana smiled and Quinn frowned. You mean Santana visited Rachel more often? She would talk to her wife about it later. "Oh, we'd better sit down because the show's about to start."

"What show?" Rachel, after hugging her sister tightly, was surprised by the situation. She looked at the television, but couldn't decipher the movement of people.

"I called the two here and even ordered some snacks because I didn't be with anyone but you." Santana sat on the couch between Rachel and Quinn, who was equally lost.

"Santana?" Quinn also couldn't understand what's going on.

"We did it! Brooks is resigning today. The regime has fallen and what is happening on television is our transmission of this wonderful event! Girls, we'll be able to go back home as free citizens!"

...

Of course, Quinn and Rachel weren't going to go back to the country definitively, but they thought it was very important to get on the private airplane and spend a few days witnessing the result everyone fought so hard. Quinn and Rachel were spokesmen in exile for the freedom of that people: Rachel with her songs and Quinn with her political comments.

Santana? Well, she and the team of special agents had a direct role in this achievement with the service and intelligence and espionage.

And there was contribution from all the other buttons of that circle first.

Blaine embraced political careers and became a young opposition leader who took to the streets to resist police oppression and pressure the government for change. Sam was assigned to be one of the leaders in conducting demonstrations in and around Lima. Kurt became a teacher, but he needed to refuge in the West when they learned about his sexuality. He returned to the country the same day as Rachel, Quinn and Santana. Matt was publicly a quiet coffee owner who had inherited his father, but secretly was an efficient coordinator of the circles of new buttons. Seban was Santana's partner in the intelligence team. Brittany became a great choreographer, but she didn't want to get involved with politics after her father was murdered.

On that happy day, the exiles and those who remained in the country were reunited. Rachel and Quinn were the first to appear in the airport landing room. They were holding hands, demonstrating to the people that there was no doubt about their relationship. As Quinn headed to a stage to speak quickly, Santana took advantage of her anonymity to go to her parents.

"Hi dad. Hi mama," She said simply, with a smile on her face.

Juan and Maribel answered the daughter with a tight embrace, of a longing of whom one hadn't seen personally for 12 years.

"Look at you!" Maribel held her daughter's face affectionately. "So grown up. So beautiful."

"You look beautiful too, Mom. You look great."

"Shall we go home?" Juan asked.

"Finally!"

...

"I remember this basement so well!" Santana smiled as she entered the old basement of the Pierces mansion, where the original circle used to meet. But it wasn't just that: that basement was an important part of her relationship with Brittany: it was where they used to date. "I missed this place."

"True!" Brittany smiled confidently at her ex-girlfriend. "This was the place for a few firsts times, right Santana?"

"Of course..." Santana blushed remembering that she and Brittany made love for the first time right there.

"For example, it was here that Rachel was first kissed." Brittany smiled, leaving the singer blushed.

"What?" Santana frowned and looked perplexed at Rachel, begging for her to clear up.

"The first person who French kissed me was Brittany!" Rachel said as she waited for Matt to finish the drinks. "I never told you about it?"

"You forgot to mention that, Rach!" Santana said earnestly and made a few laughs, but Rachel continued to behave as if that wasn't a big deal: which in fact it wasn't now that they were all adults.

"Don't take it personally, San." Matt served everyone with a drink that was his invention. "Brittany kissed everyone in this circle at least once."

"Except me!" Quinn reiterated, sampling the drink. "God... Matt, this stuff is very good. What did you put here?"

"State secret."

"Even you, Seban?" Santana was still indignant.

"It was only once!" The man was more interested in hooking up the video game that became a historical model: the same as the group used to play and have fun during some meetings.

"And when did you kiss Sam?"

"After you left and when Rachel was in prison..." The agitator also answered as if it wasn't a big deal.

"What about Matt?"

"When she got drunk at a party that Rachel and I worked... but that was a long time ago!" Matt also didn't care about chance.

"Past waters, Santana," Brittany said with a discreet smile on her face.

"Ok... ok..." Santana was only surprised.

She was a woman who knew many things and knew secrets of state that her friends never imagined. However, this almost innocent part with her youth with Brittany and that first circle was never probed. Then it wasn't that she had any more love expectations with the choreographer, and they had already overcome that relationship.

"You don't think it's funny that we're all 30, we all date each other, but only Rachel and Quinn got married?" Brittany asked, holding out the glass for another shot of the drink.

"And we were the last couple to form." Quinn spoke bragging a little and hugged her wife aside.

"Rachel, I've always wanted to ask you, but by a chance, Jesse is gay?" Blaine asked. He, like everyone else, had autographed records that Rachel sent to each through the button-mail network.

"Jesse? No, he's straight." Rachel answered awkwardly.

"But the other goof who work with Rach are," Quinn added.

Blaine and Kurt spent two more years together, trying to maintain a distance relationship after they both finished school, but love didn't stand up to the obstacle of time and space. They remained friends, though, and Blaine was one who still had some fantasy that someday they might come back. Kurt, on the other hand, no longer had such illusions and even found a new love in the countries of the West.

"Well…" Seban pondered. "It isn't because we didn't marry that we are miserable and alone. We all have someone to lean on. I have a girl myself. "

"You don't have a girl!" Santana snarled. "You have a watchdog!" The leader's attitude made the others curious.

"Just because my girl beat you up," Seban said proudly.

"What?" Rachel was curious.

"He literally dates a gorilla that is part of the security body of the big buttons... one day she pissed me of and... let's say she was lucky because my shoe was slipping..."

"You called her Rambo's stunt double after an explosion! It was nice to see when you were thrown to the other side of the bar." Seban said proud.

"Was it a bar fight?" Sam laughed.

"Details..." Santana took out a file from her bag. "Guys, our country is free now and we are together again. Besides drinks and small talk, I thought of something else to mark our reunion."

"What is it?" Quinn was curious.

Santana just smiled and put the video file on the set. There was the image of the young Rachel, with a fringe, with a bossy face and her hands on her waist.

" _I told you I was going to count to three for you to start filming!_ " She said to the camera.

" _Relax!_ " It was Seban's voice.

Cut and came another image of Rachel with a Broadway smile stamped on her face.

" _Hello Shelby. I was very excited about your birthday present and I would like to return the kindness and, at the same time, enjoy to introduce you to my great friends. And I don't see how this can best happen this way._ "

And what followed was the cover of "It's So Oh Quiet" that the circle had recorded in the basement of Brittany's house. Rachel put her hand to her mouth. It happened on the same day the agents arrested her, Sam, Quinn and the other friend from the glee club. It was also the point zero of the turmoil in which Rachel's life was transformed until her departure into exile. Up to that point everyone seemed so young and carefree. She seemed so young... and still a virgin. Sam had long, blunt hair, Quinn seemed bored with the choreography and the same was true for Santana. Kurt had the posture of anyone who wanted to compete with Rachel. Blaine couldn't resist and always looked towards to his then boyfriend. Matt danced with odd concentration, and Brittany danced as if she weren't there.

Another cut and came the "extras": Brittany devouring chestnuts that later would give her the biggest pain of belly; Santana complaining to everyone and swearing Rachel to death; Rachel puffing in the middle of a scene; Kurt and Blaine kissing on the couch in one of the breaks; Matt training a few steps to dance; Quinn smeared her tongue and rolled her eyes as if she were very bored; Sam pulling the fringe of his chin-length hair and then grabbing Rachel by the waist, spinning her crazy through the basement as she screamed. The last image was Seban, skinny and young.

" _I think it was good..._ " And the video image was static.

In the end, everyone applauded the recording of a moment that seemed to have been lost in time. They didn't know it, but that occasion was the last time the circle was completely reunited. And they were all perplexed when they realized that it took them 12 years to get everyone back under the same roof.

Rachel was sobbing with tears, and the actress's emotion infected the others. The singer couldn't help herself. She sat on Santana's lap with her body facing her sister, Santana's legs were between Rachel's and the hug was tight.

"Never go out of my life! Never again!" She ordered. "None of you! Never go out of my life again!"

...

Rachel sat in the armchair on the porch of the Lopez house. That place now seemed retarded to her, poorer, the streets were dirty, ugly. Still, she was in one of the few places in the world where she felt completely safe.

"A penny for your thoughts."

Rachel smiled to see Santana approach and sit next to her.

"It's been an endless day," Rachel replied. "But I loved it."

"I agree." Santana stretched out her arms. "Did you know that our father is questioning Quinn? He wants to know what her intentions are about you and the size of her pay check."

"Isn't it a little late for that?"

"He's running after the wasted time."

Rachel nodded and the sisters enjoyed the comfortable silence. Rachel looked up at the sky to gaze at the beautiful full moon night. It was a sky full of hope. It was a free sky. She was free, everyone was free. It was a new world, a new opportunity. She prayed that the people would understand the greatness of that and deserve it. But she also knew that there was a lot of ground ahead, and the solution to the problems was still far away. As long as she had a voice to sing, she would continue to help in that purpose. Rachel would still be a button.


End file.
